


Peppermint and Pain

by alephthirteen



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Culture, Alien Sex Toys are Next Level, Alien Technology, Alpha Alex Danvers, Alpha Kara Danvers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, And Clues to The Evil Evil Plan, And Goons, And Lena Luthor is Bringing them to the Masses, CADMUS is So Fucked, Childhood Sweethearts, Dirty Talking Lena, Evil Lena Luthor, F/F, F/M, Fourth Wall Thirsting, Kara and Alex Grew up but As Neighbors, Kara is Supergirl, Kara is a Stray Housecat, Leaving Salads on Lena's Desk, Lena has a Cape Kink, Lois Lane Destroyer of Worlds Writing for the Trevor Project, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Nonbinary Kara Danvers, Omega Cat Grant, Omega Lena Luthor, Omega Siobahn Smythe, PDA, Plot is Mostly Gender Feelings, Porn With Plot, Red Kryptonite Kara Danvers, Sappy Texts, Size Kink, So Is Lena But Not in the Same Way, Trans Clark Kent, not sisters, very mushy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:47:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 44,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26581636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alephthirteen/pseuds/alephthirteen
Summary: Clark Kent never felt right with boys.  Too angry.  Too aggressive.  Too wicked towards the girls.  Girls felt right.  Being Claire felt better. Krypton had no word for it.  The fortress had nothing but a denial of the problem.  Until his cousin landed, he had no word for it.  Until his cousin, he couldn't fix it.---They call itkyn shesur. the gift of self, and it has been taboo since the Age of Fire.  Rao, how it hurt her to see Kal's pain.  Kara couldn't protect baby Clark, but she could help find the truth.  Claire.---Kara Zor-El never felt like she should hold still.  There was the sweet, shy boy in astronomy class, Kenny.  Who easy, sad smile and gentle hugs and total isolation made a lie of the intelligence of Earth women.  There was that beautiful, sad girl in the house down the hill from her lair.  Alex.  Alex who helped her steal food.  Alex who she would call her sister if she had not known what 'sister' meant on Earth and what 'sister' took away from what she felt.---Lex is mocking her, Lena's sure of it.  That or he knows she's turned on him.  Still, if LuthorCorp is going to be making alien sex toys, she's going to get it right.  She's a god-damned Luthor.
Relationships: Alex Danvers/Kara Danvers, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 89
Kudos: 106





	1. Landings and Longings

**Author's Note:**

> I beg you, if I misrepresent some aspect of the trans experience, please whack me over the head with something. I realize it's not the same for everyone out there. I want this to be enjoyable generally and I don't want to trigger/offend anyone.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip down memory lane to see how our favorite weirdos got so weird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Claire doesn't understand how deep her dysphoria runs. Deadnames herself in her head, doesn't accept Lois' above readily. Seeking the surgery (and Lex's hormone treatment) is a good start but it's not going to fix the depression. Lois and therapy can help there.

**Kara**

Flames shake and rattle the pod around her. This antique is probably going to disintegrate before it hits the stratosphere. It's enough. It's going to have to be. 

"I'm coming, Kal-El. Please be all right."

She's twenty-four earth years late.

She barely gets time to grab the luggage casket before the craft rips apart in a storm of jagged hull plates and ruined circuits.

Her father had warned her about the yellow sun. How it would make her stronger.

It wasn't enough. She expected it to hurt. She expected to burn, perhaps badly, when the antiproton core ruptured. She didn't expect to be lazily drifting in a thin cloud, unable to control anything but equally unable to land.

_**HONK!** _

Kara opens one eye.

A swarm of brown-scaled flying beasts surround her, honking and bashing their wings in her face and one snaps its feeding horn -- some flat, toothless bone -- on her hand. It doesn't let go and inertia slams it forward. The force of the collision cracks the creature's long, thin neck and the lifeless body tumbles to earth.

"No!"

Krypton hadn't had wildlife for two geologic ages. To be surrounded by a cloud of it stole the air from her lungs. The first Earth-animal she met, she slaughters. 

Kara looks down at the falling body and tries to remember her professor's lecture on space curvature. Her legs tremble with the effort before she bursts into motion, chasing the poor thing to the ground.

_Was it sentient?_

_Was it gentle?_

_Did it leave starving young?_

She can't answer any of this. She can only bury it with the Rite of the Beast. Rao's gift to those who don't know his name but knew his warmth.

* * *

**Clark**

He can't stand this mirror. This lying mirror. He can't stand being one of _them._ One of these monsters like the ones who took Lana behind the bleachers and tried to get inside her. He wishes he could forget the boy's gurgling last breath or Lana's terrified eyes when he offered her his hand. 

> _You're just saving me for yourself,_ Lana had mumbled, crawling back in the dirt.

He wanted to be one of these soft, tender, gentler creatures who held each other when they cried and didn't mock each other for it. He liked their company far more. It was easy being accepted into the various little circles of girlfriends because he never really felt happier and somehow, they picked up on it. That made them trust him. 

He can't stand remembering how Linda didn't want him. Everyone knew Linda liked girls and he...he _had_ to be a girl because the alternative made him want to throw up. Made him want to break his unbreakable body.

> _'You pervert!'_ She had snarled. ' _What part of 'I don't like men' were you too stupid to understand?'_

Lois slides up behind him, quiet on her bare feet and unheard with his head full of loud, angry thoughts. 

One person in Smallville believed him and old woman busy running a farm couldn't do much, not at school, not on the walk home. Could listen and hold him and call him Claire in front of his friends. Nowhere.

Metropolis meant places he could hide. People he could talk to. A word for it. Dysphoria.

He took it to Kelex, who had helped with everything else. Had helped when his heat vision kicked in during the middle of sex ed, nearly burning Mrs. Svanson and destroying the film projector. Had helped him when his head hurt so badly it felt like there was a blizzard stuffed in it, a blizzard he had to blow out with a long, cleansing breath. Had helped him when he needed a warsuit so he could do something besides listen to his sadness rattling in his head.

Kelex wasn't helpful that time.

> _'Kal-El, there is no record of a mental condition like you report. Perhaps it existed once but if so, it was before the Codex and the Genesis Chambers, so it is gone.'_
> 
> _'Kelex, there must be something.'_
> 
> _'You are healthy, Kal-El.'_
> 
> _'I can't be healthy if I'm not me! '_
> 
> _'I can prescribe a sedative.'_

Lois helped. Lois called him Claire the moment he asked. Lois has been calling in favor after favor for therapists and surgeons. The night they met, Lois's hand was shaking. He hadn't been brave enough to put the nametag he wrote reading 'Claire' so he was Clark. It wasn't as if someone looking at him would ever think otherwise.

> _'Why did you do that?'_
> 
> _'Your hand was shaking. Thought it was cold.'_
> 
> _'I'm Lois.'_
> 
> _'Cl-cl-Claire,'_ he finally managed.
> 
> _'Your nametag reads Clark? Why?'_
> 
> He had no answer. No lie.
> 
> _Because Clark is still what I look like._
> 
> _'But you want to be Claire, right?_
> 
> _'Yes. More than...more than anything, really.'_
> 
> _'Hey, hey, hey! Don't cry.'_
> 
> _'Doctors can't help. Something wrong with my skin.'_ His first lie. 
> 
> _'It's not all about surgery, babe. Come on. This bar is a dump and no one else held my hand tonight.'_

Lois was soft and her laugh was quick and loud and she stumbled, drunk, into the alley and flagged down a taxi. He wanted to warn her, beg her to stop. It would be just like Linda, he knew it. As she disrobed, she hung her purple blazer over his shoulders like a promise. She hung her bra around his neck when there was no way it was going to fit around his chest.

> _'Get used to how those feel,'_ she told him.
> 
> _'Please don't.'_
> 
> _'I don't care what's in here,'_ she purred, pressing her palm to the front of his jeans. 
> 
> She tapped a long nail into his chest, right over his heart.
> 
> _'What's in here, counts.'_
> 
> _'You won't...like it.'_
> 
> _'Let me be the judge of that, gorgeous.'_

Afterwards, he was gasping and sweaty for the first time in his life. Lois was laughing and humming, pressed into his side.

> _'Do not tell me that was your first time! I mean, not perfect and tickling is not sex but I can see it from here.'_
> 
> _'You...ah...very inspirational.'_
> 
> _'Flatterer.'_
> 
> _Why? You could've had anyone there.'_
> 
> _'Speed dating sucks ass, for one. You're kind, for two. Three...'_
> 
> Lois sighed.
> 
> _'What I need is someone good. Yeah. I could've taken else someone home. Someone not complicated._ _Had some fun. But orgasms aren't worth lowering my standards. Plenty of men hung like horses are ugly as a sewer inside.'_
> 
> _'Never been with someone who couldn't stop kissing me. Who I had to push away so I could breathe enough to come. Someone so caring or gentle. Fuck simple. Fuck easy. '_
> 
> _'Why a man like me?''_
> 
> _'Woman,'_ she mumbled into his bicep. ' _You have to accept that in your head.'_
> 
> _'I can't...it's hard to think of it that way. When I look this way.'_
> 
> _'So...sounds like you want surgery.'_
> 
> _'Yeah, I think I do.'_
> 
> _'Well,'_ Lois had said, stretching like a blue-eyed, black haired cat against him. ' _That's a problem. But problems are opportunities in work clothes. Don't you dare tell me someone with enough flannel and denim to choke Paul Bunyan doesn't know how to work on a problem.'_

He laughed. A woman liked him and he laughed.

He is Claire with Lois and Clark when he is scared. Like he is at the Daily Planet. He covers sports because sometimes a trans athlete is interviewed and he gest to see someone on the other side. Someone happy.

He flies around saving people because it's a way to feel gentle in his too-big, too-strong body. It makes him feel a little bit better, if only while he's in the air.

Sometimes, with Lois, he can wear Claire inside his head, not just say her name. 

"Let me, babe," she murmurs, pressing her lips to his shoulder. "Let me do this for you."

"I love you. There's no version Claire Kent I'm not head over heels for, you realize that?"

She chuckles with her lips still pressed to his skin.

"M'aware," he mumbles.

She unwinds the fabric he tore off his cape and kneels down.

"Tell me if it hurts, all right?"

He's soft. Disgust always makes him soft. Lois wraps gentle, soft fingers around his length.

"Right leg today?" she asks.

"Mmm."

She tucks it against his thigh and ties it loosely. He won't have to see it outlined in his jeans. Unless Lois does something mean again like sit on his lap in the cab and talk about what she's not wearing. Then. Then it feels okay. Because Lois likes it.

"Thank you," he whispers.

"Of course. I'm the happiest lesbian in Metropolis."

"Don't joke," he pleads.

"M'not," she murmurs, scratching her nails up his thighs.

"Your body is not _you,_ Claire. You tell me you're a woman, you're a woman. Seeing as how I'm a woman, that's sort of the logical conclusion. Just gotta get it into your impossibly thick skull, farmgirl." 

"Where are you taking me?"

"New idea," she states, simply. "LuthorCorp has been working on alien hormones. Come on, let's go visit the devil and make a bargain."

He hangs his favorite flannel on his shoulders -- mostly lois's perfume but the collar still smells like his father -- and gathers her up in his arms.

"I wish you wouldn't call Lex that."

"Well, I wish he wasn't sketchy as fuck when we were in college. I'm not a trusting person, Claire. Wouldn't be good at my job if I was."

* * *

**Kara**

They know she's here, somewhere. Every human down there talks about the orphan. From the little nest she dug in the rock, she can see their houses. Listen to them. Every night when the moon is mi-sky, she sneaks in and steals food. She puts birdseed on the pile of rocks she buried the bird under. Canada goose, they're called.

Mr. WIlkins mates with his wife when there's molecules in his bloodstream. Later, after stealing a few books, she learns it is called alcohol, that molecule and that it meant he's drunk. Sometimes she asks him to stop. He usually doesn't. 

Eliza Danvers hugs her daughter every night because her daughter cries every night. Tells her mother about some name they called her at school. Tells her about another girl who rejected her, or slapped her for trying to kiss her. Kara's fingers curl. She doesn't have to be human to make fists when she's angry.

When her daughter's asleep, Eliza calls the sheriff. Every night.

> _'Have you found her yet?'_
> 
> _'I don't think we will, Doctor. Might as well quit calling me.'_
> 
> _'She's thirteen, sheriff. If that. Winter's coming. She's not safe.'_
> 
> _'Well, if she feels like it, she can come down from those hills. Three men broke their ankles in her traps last time we looked. Far as I'm concerned, she's a lost cause.'_

Alex sometimes stands in front of a long, reflective object and looks at her body. Kara likes watching her do this. Alex is pleasing to look at and she shouldn't cry.

That's what drives her out of the hills and to the Danvers back door.

She knocks, forgetting her strength for a moment. The door crumples like one of those hard, salty bread things she stole from the store.

Alex is at the table, head down and tears dripping onto the cloth.

"Who are you?"

"Kara. I'm the girl in the hills."

"Oh. How did you..."

Alex nods at the splinters.

"I'm not from Earth."

"Makes sense."

"You're sad, can I hold you?"

Alex nods. Alex is soft and smells good and her heartbeat is slow when she puts her ear on Kara's chest and listens to Kara's. It's easy to be gentle. Earth feels less like a too-loud, too-busy, too-breakable world that she can't stand where all the stars are in the wrong places.

Eliza finds them there.

"Hi."

"Hello, Eliza. You are the lady of this house, yes?"

"Yes. You're naked."

"I do not feel cold. Me being naked did not frighten Alex. I wish to comfort your daughter. If she finds me pleasing, I wish to court her."

It was difficult but catching Eliza before she hits the ground without dropping a still-crying Alex was possible.

She felt like a hero.

* * *

**Lena Luthor**

This should be humiliating. It really should. Veronica dumped her just for mentioning it. Lex did it to punish her for talking to the SEC about the insider trading. She's sure of it. A venial sin, not a mortal one. 

As the leader in all things alien, it falls on LuthorCorp to provide everything. Baby formula. Inflammable clothes for Inferians whose skin burns blowtorch hot. Radio-bocking hats for Coluans so that loud, noisy, unshielded earth computers don't make them dizzy. Lena has no doubt that every single product has some sort of kill-switch in it for when Lillian gives the order and lex -- mindless as he is -- follows his mother's poisoned logic.

Lena isn't sure how much she cares. Conceptually, of course, she cares. She can't really emotionally care for thousands of human babies who starve every day. Not viscerally. Human empathy has limits.

It's also a way for Lex to remind her that he knows what Lillian doesn't. Putting her in charge of alien sex toys is a warning. He will pull her out of the closet and into Lillian's sights if she steps out of line one more time.

Lena can't deny the fascination though.

On the card table in front of her are six -- dildoes? is that what she should call them? -- from four different planets. The alien who had them in the back of her van had dozens more. Irma is her best supplier, even if it does mean hair-raising trips to a homeless camp under the overpass and conversations so loaded with innuendo Lena feels like bringing a mask.

"How much?"

"Thirty solar crowns."

"Not for the lube. For all of them, I meant."

"Yeah, I know. The lube-fungi extractors are free, by the way."

"That's like four hundred of my dollars. You're undercharging."

The woman scoffs, flicking her hand and drawing one of them into the air with telekinesis. It shivers and thrashes in the cold air until Irma tugs it closer. It nuzzles into her hand, probing it with a slippery, spherical tip.

"Abundance and lack of demand."

"Valeronian wriggler. Grows around a frame of cartilage. I have a vat of them filling out in a nutrient bath."

"Coluan sparker. Damn hard to keep this thing from finding a power outlet and replicating while it burns out my AC."

As if to impress, the metal, perfectly cylindrical object crawls with electricity and a streetlight above flickers.

"That one?"

It's the most ordinary-looking one, in one sense in that it's a flesh-colored replica of a human penis on one end, complete with testicles and a diamond-shaped, slick and shivering mass of tissue on the other. It reminds her of the underside of a tongue. Fleshy and wet.

"Daxamite dangler, I call it. Well, it's a Kryptonian design but they're not the one famous for it. Only one I know if that escaped their destruction. It's inert though. Usually, they're paired with donor tissue. Don't have any."

"Donor tissue?"

"Yep. Nyssa-Vex wore one like it. Heck, maybe this exact one. Sired half a dozen little blonde bastards with it. She was buried off-world. Tomb-robbers could have lifted it."

Lena looks up.

"Sired?"

"Sure. Donor tissue. Male in her house wanted a sex change operation. Tradesy-tradesy. Donor tissue makes it fertile."

"Oh, this is neat..."

Irma takes it and spits in her hand before pumping it a few times. Before she can step away, Lena is sputtering and wearing a faceful of slimy, hot semen.

"Aww, I think it likes you!"

"You asshole," Lena grumbles, wiping her cheeks.

Irma barks out a laugh.

"Guilty."

"Doesn't actually smell, does it?" Irma asks.

"No."

_It's inoffensive which is not my usual reaction._

"This thing is actually...well, it's intelligent. It has a brain similar to a _galata_ lizard and it seeks out endorphins. You come around it, it gets a buzz. So it mimics whatever you like. Like strawberry milkshakes? Give it a sample and let it sit in a nutrient bath or solar lamps all night and bam. Breakfast in bed."

Lena looks at the still hard, flesh shamed thing with new eyes.

"It's...diamond-shaped."

"Yeah. Wide end goes in the giver. It seeks heat and pressure but reacts negatively to the chemicals that pain nerves release. So it molds in until it senses pain, then stops. Little tendrils..."

She points at a few wriggling, growing blue fingers of flesh.

"Slide into the nerves."

Lena swallows a very thick mouthful of saliva. She is looking at a possibly sentient being that human genetic engineers couldn't dream of creating for millennia that solves half a dozen previously unsolvable couples for lesbian and bisexual woman and opens doors for trans and nonbinary people that no one even knew were there.

She's also looking at four or five of her kinks in one neat, trembling package.

"Does it..."

"Solo? Sure. Far as I know."

Lena slides the bag of coins over.

"I want you to come work for me."

Irma shakes her head.

"You're nice. And..."

She exhales.

"There's a lot to like," she jokes, grinning toothily and waving her hand at Lena's chest. "But your brother is bad news bears."

"My home office, then. Might as well make use of the lower floor of the penthouse."

"You do realize I have visitors, right?"

Lena scoffs.

"You do realize I'm not exactly a nun myself?"

Irma holds out her hand. 

"Deal."

"Can you wrap that one up separate?" Lena asks.

"I figured you'd ask."

That's how Lena ends up sneaking a brown van that screams sex offender into the alley behind her building and holding the door open while Imra unloads it. 

If she spends the whole night with her eyes closed and her hand curled around a warm, throbbing piece of flesh, reveling in her pregnancy kink? Reveling in the idea of bringing home a young woman, flaunting her wife in Lillian's face, fat with the next Luthor heir and with Lena's ring on her finger?

Revenge against Lillian never felt so good. 

* * *

**Clark**

The moment he met Kara, she threw herself into his arms. Thanked him for being alive. Told him she was sorry she failed in her mission.

Told him he was cuter than when he was a baby.

They talked and talked. Kara whined about being sweet on Alex but being stuck in the hills because 'sisters can't make out' and Lois laughed so hard she fell back into the snow and started sliding down the mountain.

When she heard about his sickness, her face went hard and blue eyes flashed white with heat vision.

> _'Who told you that you were broken?'_
> 
> _'I am, cuz. I...._
> 
> Lois explained.
> 
> _'I ought to wipe the government out and replace it with something more accepting.'_

He stared to go to her, 'thinking with his cape' as Lois calls it and she caught him.

> _'She just is disappointed, Smallville.'_

Somehow he ended up in the fortress where Kara is superspeeding around the med bay arranging attendant robots and some weird, liquid-filled vats and a tray of tools with blue kryptonite edges. A book on human sex change operations is being held up by Nimda, her upgraded version of Kelex. She put the robot together in a matter of seconds without looking at the schematics once. Youngest of the Science Guild were just words to him. Not exactly his expertise. He hadn't really meant anything until then. 

Clark is big. Tall. Big shouldered. He knows this. It's one of the things that worries him most. Even if everything Kara tells him is true, including the bone grafts, he will still be bigger than almost all women.

> _'Maybe I want that, Claire. Maybe I want to just disappear in boobs and belly and listen to you laugh.'_
> 
> Kara had snorted iwth laughter.
> 
> _'Keep her, Claire. I like this one.'_

"You're sure?"

"Quit whining and get under the red sun lamps."

"Kelex didn't know about this."

"Kelex means well," Kara grumbles. "But he's a search engine with a personality. If it's not in his databanks, all he can do is be sympathetic. Really need to create an internet-Kelex link."

"So how do _you_ know?"

"My grandmother, Nyssa-Vex, told me a story about helping a young man she met. Distant relative. He wanted to be female. She did the surgery in secret. Took the...parts and kept them. There's this special animal we made, symbiote, I guess that can bond with them. Used it to knock up half a dozen strippers in Kandor's slums. Nyssa was the cool grandma. Got me drunk. Got me into trouble."

Kara sighs.

"Kelex didn't know about it because _officially_ the Codex is perfect. Officially it _detects_ this sort of thing and triggers the genes to flip the embryo and that way no one is born in a way that makes them _hurt_ but the people running the codex gave up on the sexual reproduction genes ages ago. Too unfashionable. Your brain is female, Clar- _Claire,"_ Kara says, ending in a snarl as if to remind herself. "It should've fixed this but...I suppose your dad inherited his mom's fetish for old fashioned reproduction."

This makes Lois cackle again. Clark...no, maybe, finally Claire, likes how his young cousin makes his...no, her...wife laugh.

"This will hurt, though. I'll have to use my heat vision and keep you on a drip the whole time but you're going to metabolize faster than it'll kick in. Once I get the wrong bits out, I'll start on the cloned tissue."

"Wrong bits?"

"The ones that are hurting my family," Kara says. Like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Lois grabs his wrist because if he grabs hers, he knows it'll shatter when he grabs too hard.

"Go ahead."

Kara's eyes blaze white. She holds her other hand and works slow.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

\-----

"Ow."

"Real articulate, Smallville. Pulitzer material, right there."

She grips the edge of the sheet.

"May I?

"I am basically paralyzed with pain right now, Lois. Knock yourself out."

She lifts it. A long low whistle comes form under the sheet.

Claire seriously considers dying it's so embarrassing, especially with Kara leaning on Nimda and laughing so hard she's doubled over.

"Pretty as a Georgia O'Keefe, Kara..." Lois jokes. "Looks like fun for the whole family."

Claire groans.

"I really wish you wouldn't say things like that."

"Yeah, well, I talk like I talk and you usually don't complain when we're _alone,_ gorgeous."

Kara is wheezing now.

"Thanks for that. Before I get blackout drunk to cure _that_ train of thought. I'm going to put this on ice."

"Why?"

"Because we're the last ones, Claire. If I get a chance, I'm going to start a family. Rather do it this way. Maybe Nyssa and your dad were onto something."

"Lois, take my cousin home and show her how all that works and make sure she starts to _feel_ like Claire. Feel like _herself._ I'm going to go smack Kelex around for being rude and start on a different suit for you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought about doing more Kara as Frankenstein's monster watching from the hills but I decided animal rights activist Kara was the route to take. Also I'm sick of an overabundance of buildup before the smut.  
> \-----  
> Georgia O'Keefe was known for painting flowers in ways the were quite vagina-inpired.


	2. Entry and Re-Entry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena comes out Head Bitch In Charge of the Luthor Dynasty. Alex and Kara play well with others. Humans adjust to the aftermath of the Cererbus virus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love emotional, semi-well-adjusted Season One Kara but I cannot abide the idea of not having a Lena shaped entity in the world so I'm collapsing Season 1 plots down to just the pilot and linking them up with Lena's introduction in the first episode of Season 2. 
> 
> Kara is saving a different plane for a different girl...

* * *

**SEVEN YEARS LATER**

* * *

**Lena Luthor**

Veronica is easier to deal with when it's only sex. In fact, it's the only way she can stand her. As if she wasn't insufferable enough in boarding school, Red Wednesday turned her into little more than a puddle of vaginal juices oozing to the floor of Lena's limo. 

With her mother in cuffs and her brother bleeding on the pavement, Lena hardly needed the virus in her to take her part in the plot out on Veronica. Her mother's plan was solid and Lena was all to happy to help. What neither Lex nor Lillian counted on was Lena putting in some initiative. There were thousands of viruses in the hacked Kryptonian database. One of them sounded particularly nasty, so she pitched it, skirting the part where 'rape, rage, rent flesh and ruin' were _avoided_ on a conquered Daxam with a few tweaks to public indecency laws. Watching her mother, glassy-eyed and crazed and tearing her own blouse while struggling to resist the urge to kneel before Lena was the best moment of her life. She planted a stiletto on Lillian's forehead and pushed her to the pavement to save the cops the trouble. 

So proud, so cruel and the whole time Lillian's genetics mapped to omega, not alpha. Lex had inoculated himself, as she assumed he would and as she did herself.

By her math, the alpha-mimic perfume and the fact that half her board mapped beta or omega hastened her takeover by three years.

Right now the problem with Veronica is that her throat feels incredible, maybe her coughing is just a tad satisfying as revenge and that feeling is gathering in her cunt, winding and coiling deep in the feeler's brain and cracking into her nerves across the tendrils. She hasn't interviewed men -- she only trusts two and it's a weird question -- but the prickling, shaking _burn_ of it matches descriptions she reads in books.

With a grunt and a lunge of the hips, Lena empties into Ronnie's throat. The feeler shivers and slacks and the air in her lungs seems to leave with it. She sighs and slumps back.

Ronnie rips herself off Lena's cock, gasping and panting.

"What..the...fuck, Lena!"

"Impressive, no?"

Veronica sinks back onto the sheet beside her. 

"Perv. I thought it was going to come out my fucking nose. And stop exposing it to garlic!"

"Poor baby," Lena teases. "Didn't someone want practice deepthroating before you go to the Oscars afterparty?"

"I hate you," Ronnie groans.

"No you don't."

Ronnie deflates like a tattooed, tired balloon animal.

"No, I don't. Could you _please_ make me come so I don't assault the doorman on my way out?"

"Hold still," Lena growls.

She clambers down the bed, positioning herself. A sharp, stinging swat to Ronnie's backside gets her attention.

"Ass in my hands, head in the pillow. Got tested since last time?"

"Yeah," Ronnie replies into the pillowcase. "Can that thing even..."

"Don't know. Not risking it."

"Fair enough."

Lena scratches a blunt nail on one of the nerve clusters on the top of the feeler and warm slickness burbles out of the pores, dripping down the shaft in syrupy rivulets. Took her three years to figure out it had reflexes but that was a revelation for the ages. Whoever bred this thing thought of everything. Hard. Soft. Lube. Shake. Grow. Shrink. Hold back. Each one of them with a tickle to a certain flat bundle of nerves at the base. 

"One finger first, please," Ronnie pleads.

Gathering the slick up, Lena works it over the whole length. Slow. Ronnie's little 'ah' when she sinks the head in and the wriggle of her back brings back a tenderness Lena isn't ready for, not with her. The long, wicked moan Ronnie lets out when she works the first knuckle into the tight ring of muscle is all the revenge Lena needed.

"Who knows? Maybe Tom Cruise likes fucking wannabe mafia queens like you in the ass," Lena teases.

\-----

As is the ritual, Ronnie tickled the feeler until it slid free before they ate breakfast, drinking as much of Lena's juices as she could when they rushed into the gap.

She left with one hand on her stylish 'walking stick' after breakfast after a dopey, fond kiss on Lena's hairline.

Lena struts into her office with a bounce in her step and an oversize purse on her shoulder with a hidden pocket of protein-rich saline at the bottom. Be prepared.

"Morning, Jess."

"Morning, Miss Luthor. Shall we go over your schedule?"

"Only if you tell me about your date," Lena jokes.

Jess blushes.

"M'not. Not ready. Soon. If we're still serious. He's an omega and..."

Jess trails off in a wave of nervous pheromones she can't really control. For all the edge they gained over alphas and omegas who probably lost billions of collective IQ points to their cycles, betas got the bad end of the deal in controlling their pheromones, noses, and all the new social signaling.

Lena sighs.

"And just about no one had their world overturned more than male omegas."

Jess nods.

"I should apologize. That was inappropriate. You never should feel like you have to, Jess. Just... You're the only friend I have here and I'd really like to be girlfriends. In the straight girl sense."

Jess chuckles.

"I manage your Twitter, remember? You get six thousand DMs a day and I'm no gynecologist but eighty percent of them involve people wanting you to do things to their vaginas that I don't think are possible. I'm well aware I couldn't handle the other option."

Lena unlocks her office and steps in. Lex must've let himself in. Four heavily armored FBI agents are in the room, one per corner. He's staring at the chessboard and the blue light of an iPad is giving his face a truly eerie glow. The other player is giving him instructions in Russian. Lena's eyes drift longingly to her gift from Lionel for placing in the Olympic tryouts -- a sixteenth-century Venetian longsword -- and she has a pleasant daydream about seeing which of their respective sporting careers was more lethal.

"Sister..."

Lena snaps her fingers and points out the door.

"Shoo. I have a business to run. This is an exception for your parole but that's a privilege, not a right. Gentlemen, thank you for babysitting him."

Lex chuckles and rolls his eyes before ambling out with two assault rifles at this back and one at his head. 

"Dinner? At the manor?"

"It's twelve hundred miles away."

"I would go out but," he shakes his explosive-lined shackles at her. "Curfew."

"House arrest, Lex. For _bioterrorism_."

Lex leans a bit too close and only a wave of Lena's hands keeps the agents far enough back. 

" _Attempted,_ Lena. Because you switched the virus, you nasty little minx."

He laughs loud and pulls back.

"I mean, a non-fatal, extremely powerful aphrodisiac virus. Does that really count? Seems a bit mild to be punished with house arrest. Neighborhood arrest, perhaps?"

Lena feels the migraine gathering behind her eyes already. He was scarier before the bipolar diagnosis and subsequent treatment, but he was actually less _bothersome_ before he told dad jokes.

"Besides, that's the point of owning a private plane, Lena dear."

Jess rolls her eyes at him too and even leans forward and clacks her teeth. It is endearing how her personal assistant trusts her so much she is willing to threaten the most dangerous man alive. Lena only hopes Jess is as safe as she feels.

"Down, girl," Lena jokes. "Tell me about my schedule."

"Simon Tycho wants an update on the defense contacts."

"Cancel. I already sent him a packet. The man can read."

"Sam Arias wants to brief you on the prelim revenue for Q1."

"Prety sure she's crushing on me. Snacky alpha with a nice smile? Give her an hour."

"No fucking at work," Jess scolds. "Remember Kim?"

Lena waves her hand.

"Exception that proves the rule. That was three days after the outbreak and it was her first heat. Besides, you're not my mother."

Jess harrumphs.

"Yeah, I actually care about you," the beta mutters.

Lena sighs.

"What else?"

"Venture Spaceplane flight at four."

"Pencil it in."

Lex's plot falling apart was good for everybody. It did mean the Thangarian destroyer he stole was confiscated by the Air Force and as such, Lena's never actually been to space.

* * *

**Kara Zor-El Danvers**

Kara walks back into the glass doors with a packed drink carrier and a bag of sticky buns. The fun-sized omega at the desk glances up and smiles. From downwind, Kara can tell she's sweet and light and airy, untouched by perfume. Her soap is scent-neutral and so is her shampoo. Between that and the symbol branded artfully on the column of the girl's throat and filled in with bright pink ink, there is little question that she threw herself into this brave new world with zeal. Another refugee from the sinking ship that is Tinder. 

She twirls the keyring with one of the punchcards for the heat rooms on her finger. The only way the proposition gets any clearer is if she mounts the desk and offers her pussy to Kara in the middle of the lobby. Naughty. She doesn't smell like she's anywhere close to the heat. 

_She's not yours._ _Alex's rules._

"One little alien virus and everything changes," the security guard at the elevator door mutters.

Kara grins sloppily at him, cocks her head and sniffs. Humans need to sniff, but her nose is so keen that she doesn't. When in Rome.

"You complaining, big bad alpha?"

He chuckles.

"Got the same wife as before."

"Frank...so your wife is Joanie, right?"

He lights right up. One use for perfect Kryptonian memory that Kara enjoys. The memory of every roadkill pet she ever saw is less fun.

"Yeah. She teaches high school."

Kara pulls a face.

"Smelly! I mean, it always was, if I recall but _now_ especially."

"So she says. They pump scent neutralizers in the AC and security's good. Tase any boys who get stupid ideas. Twenty years Tuesday."

"That's actually really sweet. Don't let anyone tell you differently. People bribe me with gift cards to get at Miss Grant and she lets me 'dispose' of them. All the time. Bag, top pocket. Go fish."

"Uh, thanks."

He tries to be chivalrous about it but doesn't exactly succeed.

"Relax, champ. We play for the same team. I won't break. Just take all of them. Show her a good time. They'll be replaced by four o'clock anyway."

"Huh," he mumbles. "Wouldn't have guessed."

"What? Pretty blondes can't be alphas?"

He shrugs.

"More like I'd be comparing shades of blonde if I weren't married and she was making moon eyes at me," he jokes, nodding to the secretary.

Kara pouts.

"My wife doesn't let me play with strangers. Well, not without her."

"It's the button-ups, isn't it?"

"I knew it!"

Frank guffaws.

"Yeah kid, sorry. Button-ups, vests, bow-ties, not one skirt. You once wore a plaid flannel scarf. You're a hundred footer."

Their bonding is interrupted by a shriek from the heavens.

"Kiera!"

The sound echos off steel, glass, tile, and marble.

"Can't believe she had a targeted intercom installed," Frank muttered. "What, is it keyed to whatever room has your ID tag?"

Kara clicks her tongue.

"Got it in one."

Lips tightening into a frown, Kara rolls her eyes at the ceiling. 

"I'm going to have that woman install a Noonan's on the sixtieth floor, I swear to God."

"Wanna yell back?" he jokes.

"Considering it."

\-----

Kara finds her boss holding court in her office with the Lifestyle, Sports, Investigative and Photojournalism department heads. 

Kara made a cool grand in the office pool when Cat Grant tested as an omega. 

It was a sucker's bet, everyone thought. Kara had an inside track though. Her father had run her through all of the banned projects and failed prkects he knew of during their daddy-daughter ethics lessons. She knew which personality factors led to the virus settling on a phenotype.

Empathetic, enthusiastic, intent, stubborn, challenging others, maternal down to her bones...Cat Grant screamed omega. 

Everyone else bet on title on the office door.

All CEOs were alphas, so the old-boy logic ran. Kara bet on the best, hardest-working woman she knew, who slapped down and demanded better from staff --better she knew they had -- and a woman who no virus, no social upheaval, no asteroid hitting the city, who nothing could stop.

A superstar omega call-girl is kneeling meekly next to Cat's chair, leaning contentedly into a lazy scratch of Cat's nails on her scalp. A waste bin overflowing with tissues explains Siobhan's dry cheeks and chin.

Siobhan was the first 'companion' to achieve superstardom. The moment her video blog went silent and replaced by a photo of an engagement ring, rumors flew. Mark Zuckerberg? Maxwell Lord? Jeff Bezos? Bruce Wayne? Who the hell could _afford_ to take a 23-year-old goddess making a quarter mil a month on long sex weekends off the market?

What dick-brained alpha billionaire could be _that_ hard up?

None of the above.

Cat Grant. Master of the power move. Master of the news cycle and the political dialog. 

First out omega in the CEO crowd and one of a select few lesbian CEOs before or after Red Wednesday.

First high-prfile person to marry a (technically criminal)prostitute and take her out on the town as if to tell the government "come take her from me"

The world of charity was not happy to lose their half-million a night auctions of Siobahn. 

Rather than risking Cat Grant's ire and finding out how many resignation-worthy sex scandals hid in her filing cabinet of dirt on them, the Senate fell over themselves to pass the rest of the Acceptance Act, the Mercy Act, the Bodies Act, and the Common Humanity Act. Registered, taxed and tested prostitution became legal. Child trafficking laws tightened murderously while the punishment for sexting between minors was a $50 fine. Scent profiles, heat cycles and locked doors became grounds for a rape accusation and sometimes, refreshingly, a conviction. Disabilities and family leave compliance had to include heat and rut leave at whatever internal developed and separating same-sex spouses in heat became a felony. Reckless endangerment of human life. Aliens were equally effected and after a few warehouses with heat-seized bodies were found, the pressure to give the same heat-related health and workplace rights -- if not voting rights -- to aliens, soared.

No one could hide. No one could deny. Eighty fgive-year-old men in the Senate keeled over when a staffer or an intern came upwind and their bodies reacted. Abstinence killed and with it, hypocrisy was put on life support.

At each stage, anonymous donors lurked to grease wheels, armed with billion-dollar war chests. If Kara didn't know better, she would say whoever released the virus was feminist and extreme progressive angling to create the pressure to revolutionize healthcare and women's rights...

When CatCo HR finalized the rules, Kara was put in charge of placing the secure heat rooms on each floor, selecting 'aids' for them and compiling the phone trees of known spouses, life partners and willing one-offs for all staff.

If that meant that she and Alex could find one blindfolded when Alex brings her a mewling, panting snack at lunch? Bonus. 

Kara's alpha notices something and a snarl starts deep in her chest, one that can grow deeper and louder than any human could ever match.

James Olsen is in _her spot_ and that is not all right.

James Olsen is Claire's friend and also one of the _worst_ examples of a male alpha getting ahead of himself. Because it's sneaky. He's not rude or grabby. A quick rooftop shoving contest proved he knew Kara was Kryptonian and the ever-nearing roof edge proved that he had the brains to never breathe the name 'Clark' in her presence. She'd give him more credit for his loss of his 'bro' Clark if he wasn't just as close to Lois, making it doubly disrespectful. He's nice as a friend but he's damn near omnipresent at work. Always _there_ as if he waits, Kara will decide that yes, she does feel like fucking him, unlike the previous four hundred times they've been in the same room.

It's so bad Alex is in the process of stealing his tasty omega from him. Not that they wouldn't have gone after a golden-skinned woman in uniform anyway but this gives them reasons to put in the effort.

Kara shakes her competitive, aggressive fog and pushes the instincts down.

"Latte," Kara says, handing Jane from Sports.

"Espresso." she hands Quinnfrom Lifestyle their latte. "Love the look, Quinn."

The enby omega preens and grins. Kara has milked them for fashion tips probably a hundred times. Gender presentation isn't a survival tactic for Kara, not like for Quinn, but it is a big part of navigating the loss of Krypton, her marriage to Alex, and a world packed with dick-swinging alphas who assume too much.

"Dirt water," she hokes, handing Snapper Carr his coffee.

"Frappucino," she purrs, putting Cat's coffee in her outstretched right hand.

"Siobhan's stuck in some sort of low-grade heat. She's going to take the paint off," Cat mutters, low enough so only Kara can hear. "I can trust you not to go to the tabloids. You willing?"

"Cat, I'm a twenty-something alpha who's had internet access the whole last year. She's my hall pass, Cat. No check ins. I believe Alex's exact words were 'if baby wants, baby gets'"

Cat chuckles.

"Alex has good taste."

"She does."

Cat snaps her fingers and the players take their places.

"Quinn, what's up for your columns?"

"Beta-Beta review of the L-Corp Lasher and a piece on Tinder's downsizing and a panel of testimonials from various gender identities and alpha, beta, and omega columnists."

James shifts uncomfortably.

"Is that the..."

Kara snorts.

"Is that the fully organic, trainable, enervated, _functional_ dick? The one that stays hard indefinitely and memorizes _exactly_ how much your girl can take? The one that can mimic spices in her favorite _food_ for breakfast in bed? Yeah. Grow up, James. Doubt there's a queer alpha female who _hasn't_ pre-ordered. I backed it on Kickstarter."

Cat snickers beside her. This is how the world should be. Kara at Cat's right hand taking notes.

So maybe she does have a tiny crush.

"Snapper?"

"Looking into this new vigilante. We set up some new WayneTech camera traps."

_Oh, fuck. Those are no joke._

Cat scoffs.

"Fairly sure it's not a panther, Snapper."

He grumbles. The man sounds like a cement truck when he does that.

"The only clues I have are 'female', 'smelled amazing' and 'total unit' and that's from three different saves and one crook, so I thought it was time for technology."

James turns his gaze towards Kara. Kara looks _elsewhere_ as fast as she can.

"Jane?"

"Olympics are still canceled, an abundance of caution about infected but not presented visitors to Tokyo popping into heat or rut in a foreign country. I was actually thinking of doing a piece on the alien sports we see on YouTube."

Cat nods.

"New and different sells. Good."

"Anything else?"

Kara raises her hand.

"I have a suggestion. Bookmark in your email."

"That's new and different, Kiera. Brazen is a new look on you. Not sure I like it."

Cat opens her laptop and pulls it up. James is treated to a trio of moaning Epilson Perseis and Alex's low, huffing panting.

"What is this?"

"You started at _Cosmopolitian_ , ma'am. Famously worked up form sex tips, to relationships, to women's rights...to here. I have a source who wants to do human-alien and alpha-beta-omega sex tips and advice. This is an opportunity. Aliens walk among us. Sex advice columns aren't just four hundred things to do to your man's dick with a donut. They're diplomacy between humans and aliens. They're life-saving warnings about changes in STD testing for alien-human couples. They're education and sensitivity for the post-Cerberus world. Diversity initiatives."

Cat quirks and eyebrow.

_Please like it please like it please like it._

Kara's phone chirps.

"If your phone is so important as to not be silenced in this meeting, you better answer it."

Kara pulls it out of her pocket halfway.

> **'Following in my footsteps as an underpaid sex columnist, Kiera? Not sure if I'm touched or offended. And don't think for a minute I don't know your wife's voice or that I don't know a Persei could crack a concrete bunker between her legs. Play nicely, make them feel wanted and take good notes, space girl.'**

Kara's so embarrassed her ears are hotter than her heat vision. Cat must have known she was an alien and she did correctly guess who was coaxing verbally and who was getting squeezed by Jessie and Stacy that night.

"Olsen. You're up. Work out some of that...whatsit...roto-rooter."

"Rotoscope," Kara fills in. "Film editing technique."

"Thank you for interrupting, _Kiera_. Talk to CatCo Film and cook up a way to get these videos both clear enough and impressionist enough to be PG-13. Kiera will work with her contact."

"M-m-me?" James babbles.

Cat sips her coffee.

"Complain about female sexuality, win stupid prizes. You all have your assignments. Begone."

As she walks past, Kara clamps her hand on James' shoulder.

"I told you I'd get back at you for deadnaming my cousin. Three acts of revenge, remember? For the first one, you got off easy. Some of the videos are _hot."_

* * *

**Lena Luthor**

"Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm," the captain calls over the intercom. "We are having some minor engine issues."

He's acting like the Venture is a crop duster biplane which had a cylinder go out, not a flimsy brick of steel that is being subjected to the full cruelty of entry and rapidly shedding heatshield tiles.

_Eighteen thousand miles an hour. Steel melts at 2800 Fahrenheit. Friction below 30,000 feet will bring it to 10,000 degrees in seconds._

This is how it ends. She had a good run. Defeated her evil family. Eased a worldwide change in human sexuality. Had more than her share of orgasms. She brings her trembling fingers to her forehead.

"In the name of the Father."

Her heart.

"The Son."

Her shoulders.

"And the Holy Ghost."

The floor under her seat shakes. The frame is coming apart.

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death,":she whispers.

The Italian shipping magnate next to her grabs her hand. Lena glances over to his terrified face.

"Amen. See you on the other side, _bella._ "

A cheer over the intercom is joined by another in the cabin.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm pleased to report Superwoman is here to assist us."

Lena exhales a breath she didn't remember taking.

Something rips the window beside her out.

\-----

A stout blonde woman has her arms wrapped around Lena, clutching her teary face to her shirt buttons. Wind whistles around them and golden hair streams in the edge of Lena's vision like the flames of an angel's wings. The woman below her is calm, all smiling pink lips and sky blue eyes that promise peace and safety and happiness. Her seat belt is torn off and she is curled tight into a fetal position in the woman's arms.

"Hold on tight," she growls.

They hit the ground hard enough to crater it...her savior taking every square inch of contact with the ground. The woman below her is giggling. A woman who should be a thin jelly of broken bones and shredded muscle. A woman who should be the layer of dead biomass lying under an equally dead Lena.

"Not saying I want to go again but...I had fun."

_She's a super. Has to be. Too tough and too stupid to be anything else._

"I'm Kara."

"Lena. Lena Luthor."

"You're not wearing a cape," Lena points out. As if that's the important thing.

"Spur of the moment. Superwoman had the rest of it handled but something on your side of the aircraft broke. I ditched work to catch you. Sorry I didn't have better landing plan," she jokes, glancing around the rim of what must be a ten-foot-deep crater. "Couldn't let a gorgeous, world-saving genius of an omega get splattered all over central Ohio," she teases, brushing a sweaty lock of hair off Lena's forehead.

"I'm not a..."

Everything from her ovaries to her lungs cramps up at once. Enough slick pools between her thighs that thinks she would _kill_ for a god fuck and die after without getting a bottled water.

"...omega," Lena groans, sinking into a broad, powerful, fragrant body under her as her skin catches fire.

Kara kisses her forehead.

"Stupid alpha. You smell nice. Like spring rain and lighting."

"I know," Kara chuckles, holding her. "My wife always says the same thing."

The attempt to disentangle leads to three things.

This woman's abs are _criminal._

Lena could break her _whole fucking hand_ if she ever punched this woman's arm.

A familiar, shivering, thick mass at in her khakis tickles Lena's leg. She's _packing_ and it's...a lot...she definitely paid an extra fee for heavy packages. 

She has a gay, gorgeous, irritatingly charming super under her who just triggered her first-ever heat despite having inoculated herself and is wearing an alien dildo -- Kryptonian, she suspects -- that feels better against her hip than a hot bath after a long day.

"Could you?"

_Could you please fuck my brain back in so I can figure out how to break up with a super?_

Lena can't believe she's asking.

"Let me call my wife. Alpha-alpha marriages thrive on clear boundaries."

"Oh," Lena mumbles, suddenly feeling quite small.

Kara palms her ass.

"She'll love you. She's a xenobiologist."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lena swapped "Medusa" (a monster) with the "Cerberus" virus (three-headed dog) which seemed like as good a name as any for a global pandemic triggering alpha, beta, omega presentation and pheromones. Because of basic biology, no one grew new sex organs out of nowhere but previously dormant pheromone glands in humans were activated and the brain processes smell at a higher priority than before. All the other pieces are present in human biology anyway: cyclical hormonal changes in libido for women, testosterone level variation in men, social cues, non-verbal communication, etc.  
> \-----  
> The living strap-ons (symbiote) are called klixen on Krypton but Lena doesn't know that at this point) so she goes with feeler since she can feel everything it's feeling.  
> \-----  
> IrishCatholic!Lena is going to be an absolute NIGHTMARE for the corrupt church.  
> \---  
> The idea of the "Cerberus virus" being the source of A/B/O in this world appealed to me for three reasons:
> 
> It means A/B/O is new and still confusing to humans (but not Kara and her friends)  
> It means Lena is unquestioned in her domination of her mother and brother.  
> It means Lena knew it was coming and could put out the drugs, toys, deodorants, treatments and any other thing that might be needed by a confused, horny population.


	3. Five Course Meal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Lena is out of her element, Kara and Alex are too powerful as wives and Jess is concerned.

**Lena Luthor**

Being vulnerable in front of female authority figures is old hat for Lena. Standing before a living goddess whose sapphire eyes are edging to all-black with lust is not so different. Being naked in front of women she's not on a friendly basis with while out of her mind with lust is not new either. Hate sex is reliable if nothing else. Standing in a shredded blouse and a few scraps of wool while the remaining threads of her panties slither down her leg aided by her wetness is just more of the same.

This still feels new. Lena doesn't remember _wanting_ this bad, physically. She doesn't remember nervousness or emotion, the feeling of wanting _to be wanted_ at all.

Her spine is not her own. Like her bones had turned to melted butter. Everything in her wants to bend, to sink back into the arm around her waist. Wants to fit to the shape of the body in front of her. Wants to make herself small before the powerful, _delicious-smelling_ alpha before her. Make herself tender, so she will be protected. Make herself a morsel so she will be savored. 

She's so out of her head it terrifies her.

_Two billion other women are omegas. You can do this. You have to. It's your damn fault they have to._

Atonement. Penance. She's Catholic. She can work with self-punishment.

Kara's big thumb scrapes across her nipple, making the left half of her blazer flutter to the dirt.

Her forehead is pressed to Lena's.

"Smell good."

"H-h-how important is smell to this?" Lena asks. "Uh...process."

Kara rumbles, somewhere deep in her chest. Her laugh hits a note human vocal cords can't. Hits a nose she's fairly fucking sure a grizzly bear can't hit. Something that is _not_ one of the symptoms in humans. 

_Were Krpytonians primed for this virus? Were they already...this?_ Lena wonders. 

If her brain wasn't busy leaking down her legs, she could remember more of the genome of the virus. It was from a Kryptonian computer, after all.

The hard mass in Kara's pants brushes her thigh, setting her nerves crackling and drawing a hiss out of her.

_How big is her cock?_

She's not a fan of the static in her brain. She's Not a fan of how her thoughts alternate between genuine curiosity and raw need. She doesn't seem to be able to get two civilized thoughts in succession.

"Incredibly," Kara sighs. "It's how we both make our choice. If your smell changes, I'll stop and check in. Even if you don't say anything. Deep breath," she instructs. "Out."

Lena obeys without realizing she made a choice to. The big, gentle hand on her back let her know it was safe. She is irritated that her forebrain wasn't asked but when she did ask, she can't find fault with the choice.

"Hold."

Lena holds her breath as long as she can.

"In."

Fresh air is gulped into her lungs and with it comes _fire_ that pumps into her body before she's even drawn the whole breath.

"What? What happened?"

"I stopped holding back," Kara admits. "Stopped masking how I wanted you."

"Oh."

"First heat, right?"

Lena nods. She feels like a noodle, and she hates this feeling.

"Hadn't had any symptoms before. Wore alpha scent perfume."

Kara bumps her big, puffy lips against Lena's ear, and Lena tilts. Kara's tongue drags along her pulse.

"Hmm. I thought I liked your perfume. You taste good. You smell good. Ready. Definitely your first," she decides. "First heat."

Kara chuckles.

"Pretty sure that these have scared other girls," Kara jokes, lifting a breast in her hand. "Just not in heat."

"Oh, is it that obvious, Wilt Chamberlain?"

"Who?"

Lena shakes her head.

"You wouldn't get the reference. I..."

_I want you to leave so I can call my driver._

_If you leave, this hurt will keep hurting._

_If you leave, there's no one I can possibly trust with this._

_If I don't do something, this is going to be a self-fulfilling prophecy leading to suicide by vaginally administered punch-press._

_I need to figure out what to tell the board anyway._

_If I let you fuck me, and it hurts a little, I won't feel so bad about unleashing this._

_If I don't ask about her sexual history, I'm going to be part of it before I can talk again._

"Clean?"

"M'Kryptonian," Kara growls. "Get tested too."

"Ah. Right. How many girls have you been with?"

"Counting you?"

"No."

"Four. High school ex. My wife and two regulars. They don't see anyone else. I think two. One was going to be the first time tonight."

"Oh."

_Lena, you ass. That's three digits less than you were thinking._

"For a moment I thought you were about to add the word thousand to that four."

Kara chuckles, the vibration carrying straight into her jugular. Lena buckles at the waist and Kara catches her.

"Women are too pretty. Too pretty to eat too many. Not like ice cream samples. Gotta have favorites," Kara rumbles.

That did something. Oh, _God forgive her_ but that did something. She's in zero gravity now. Nothing can hurt her.

"S'okay. It's intense. My rut was too. M'good at making it seem easy. Seeming confident."

"You're _not_ confident?"

That's terrifying, the idea that this easy, gradual grind on Lena's defenses is a mask. That these big, soft fingers keep her hot with no more effort than swiping a smartphone screen. That this is Kara trying to be _easy_ to be near.

Kara hooks her knee around back to support Lena and swipes her thumbs over Lena's nipples, both of them.

"Never am," she admits. "Pretty ladies scare me."

"Do I?" Lena chuckles.

"More n'usual," Kara rumbles.

"Might say no. I like you. You might not like me after."

_Fuck me. This super has rejection issues._

"Can we take this somewhere else?" Lena pleads. "I need to go one way or the other with this. Rather not deal with the press naked in a muddy crater."

Kara smiles, galaxy big and supernova bright.

"My place?" she pleads.

"Sure."

"Hold on."

\-----

Lena's pretty sure she screamed. Maybe? She's on the West Coast. Confident about that. Which means three time zones were involved. She's naked _under_ a blanket but this hand-knitted afghan makes her happier and more prepared than a ten thousand dollar suit ever did. The airflow relieves the prickling heat of her skin. 

The skyline tells her she's on the outskirts. Affordable compared to the city center or the suburbs.

"You live in National City."

Kara laughs somewhere behind her and comes over with a cup of hot cocoa.

"I have pretty neighbors," Kara jokes.

Lena blushes. When the fuck was the last time she _blushed?_ Before boarding school, probably.

"Say when."

"Huh?"

"Marshmallows."

Kara opens her fist and reveals a few dozen mini marshmallows. It's so goddamned cute, so far from anything _Luthor_ that Lena can't stand it. There's a succession plan at her company. She died. She died on the Venture and this big, soft butch woman with the smile and the hands and the willingness to wear that monster under her khakis during the workday, she can just take care of her forever.

"I need to call my PA. Otherwise my board is going to take my company."

Kara kneels behind Lena and holds out her phone.

"Smile."

There's a flash of the selfie camera. Kara taps a couple buttons and then leaves the phone in her lap, scurrying back into the kitchen.

"My phone is your phone."

"Huh?"

"LeoTech Extreme allows five unlock faces," Kara reminds her over the rim of her own cocoa. "My girlfriends can unlock my phone. I have no secrets from them," Kara adds.

Lena starts crying. She doesn't know where this rawness is coming from. The heat, maybe but she's not sure that's all of it.

"Going to give you some privacy. Make a bed up. Our..."

Kara sighs.

"The other omegas Alex and I play with like to nest. The sort of mixed smells help them sleep. Sleep's important in a heat. You can't usually get many hours so they have to be good hours."

Lena laughs.

"So your wife's name is Alex, huh?"

"Mmm-hmm. Called her. Told her to come home early if she wanted to meet the prettiest woman alive."

"Who's she?" Lena jokes.

"You," Kara replies, her tone entirely too soft. Lena's glad she's facing the window trying to figure out what to text Jess. "You. Even prettier when I've fucked you. You'll look more...real," Kara adds, like she was just declaring a universal truth.

She gives up on a text at that point. Texting requires being at least a full sentence worth of smart at a time. She dials Jess instead.

"Hello? Look, I don't have time! I need to fi-"

"It's me, Jess."

Lena's fairly sure that thump was Jess's head hitting her desk.

"Thank god. I nearly had to have Mercy Graves _shoot_ Williamson to keep him from giving a press conference. You hurt?"

"Shaken," Lena admits. "If he keeps misheaving, let Mercy. She gets antsy otherwise."

"I was so worried when you weren't in the ground count after the crash. Hear about the new super?"

"The what?"

"Apparently someone rescued one seat. The seat containing Lena Luthor even after her seat tore clear of the plane. Moved fast. Caught your seat and then hit the ground. They're calling it Yellow Bolt. Because that's all they've got. Yellow blur."

"Thanks! I hate it!" Kara calls from the other room.

"Jess, this is..."

"WHATTHEFUCKISTTHAT?" Jess shrieks.

_Right. I hit video call button by accident apparently._

"Kara. She saved me."

Kara comes over behind the couch and waves.

"Hi, Jess. I've heard good things. Cat Grant likes you."

_How does she know Cat Grant?_

"They make women that big?" Jess wonders aloud.

"Apparently."

"You go be gay," Jess mumbles. "I'll handle the press."

"Jess! Don't hang up."

Jess's finger hovers over the camera, almost at the touchscreen.

"Listening."

"I need you to change my employee file. After hours. Change line X3. I'm an omega."

"What?"

"I'd been wearing alpha perfume because I hadn't...what..."

Lena starts snapping her fingers, short on the word.

"Presented," Jess offers. "She triggered you."

"That! Easier to wear the perfume and be a top than to think about it too much. I did today."

"Because of the Yellow Bolt."

"Still hate the name!" Kara calls down the hallway.

"I mean, I did fall about 40,000 feet screaming and crying with my face in her shirt. Pretty well acquainted with her scent."

Jess smiles.

"I"m happy for you, Miss Luthor."

"What?"

"It's a sign of compatibility. The guy who triggered my older sister was her second husband. She's never been happier. It was like a Disney movie had a baby with cereal commercials. It was cutesy as fuck. My advice? Just follow your nose. Bye now!"

"Don't you fucking da-"

Lena is talking to the home screen now.

"Hang up. Brat."

The door to the apartment bangs open. Lena whirls around to see a lanky redhead with an FBI baseball cap being carried by a tiny, golden-skinned woman in Army dress uniform.

"You cannot pass Siobahn off on me, Kara!" 

"I had to suck her off _twice_ to get her hard enough times to shut that banshee up."

The redhead glances sideways.

"Did you..." she asks. "Shouldn't have done that if you didn't like it."

"Oh I loved that, but now it means I'm not getting any dick. These things _do_ need to sleep eventually," she jokes, tracing one small finger down the redhead's sweatpants.

Tracing an impressive bulge that's probably not even half the size of Kara's. Certainly not in thickness.

Kara hurries around the corner and scoops up her wife -- a full head taller than Lena -- like she was a particularly breakable piece of glass and lay her on the other couch opposite from Lena.

"Alex Danvers," the newcomer says, saluting mockingly. "FBI Xenocrimes division. At your service. After I nap and hydrate."

"Lena Luthor."

"Nice tits."

"Thanks," Lena sneers. "My birth mom gave them to me. Very proud."

"You should be."

"She's adopted too," Alex says, nodding to Kara. "Well, more like she was homeless. We grew up together."

Kara trails back in, smelling like gentle rain and wet mint leaves and Lena's stomach _growls_ and Kara chuckles. She's wearing an "eat pussy, not animals" shirt and it's fucking unfair the torso and curves that shirt has to deal with and Lena doesn't mind one bit that it's failing miserably at hiding them. Kara's breasts aren't big, certainly not like her own often-embarrassing chest but they're firm enough to peel the cotton off the furrowed and tanned muscle it barely covered in the first place. A lickable pair of abdominals is exposed above the sweatpants and Lena would be her whole fortune there's six more in the pack.

"It's true," Kara laughs. "Here, babe."

She puts a wet washcloth on Alex's forehead.

"You good?" Kara asks. "want me to take Pistil off?"

"No. She'll recover quicker this way."

"Pistil?" Lena aks. "Tell me you did not fucking _name those._ "

"'Course we did. They're alive."

Alex chuckles.

"Some in the galactic community think they're candidates for admission. Probably a good thing they don't have vocal cords though. The stories they can tell. Klixen are no joke."

"Pistil, like..."

"Like the part of a flower that fertilizes the stamen," Lena realizes. "Phallic yet feminine."

Kara tilts a dazed Lena onto her side. Lena wasn't aware that her arm was getting tired holding her up until the relief washed over her but Kara clocked it and kept her comfy.

"Didn't you see the terrariums?"

_She's got to be... Not joking._

There are four terrariums with yellow sun lamps, a layer of gelatinous food and softly buzzing vibration attachments. Two of them still have inhabitants. One of which is a more...scary specimen. If the soft, rest-state klixen is any indication, Lena is going to have a great night and maybe not be able to go in on Monday.

They're marked Pistil, Stamen, Vhoc and Flamebird and if she needed any more goddamned proof she was dealing with a Kryptonian she just got it.

She's going to need a moment to process the fact that there's four. 

"Fuck," Lena realizes. "They attach to _any_ cavity?"

Alex nods.

"Yeah. Unless it has teeth. Leslie _really_ likes that. The fact that they have immune systems really cut downs on cleaning. Little sneaks even manage to link into clitoral nerves from the colon. Somehow. Not sure the female human brain was meant to take the sensation of _two of those_ slamming her pleasure center but we need to grow as a species," Alex explains, ending in a long, lip-smacking yawn.

"Luce?" Alex asks, making grabby hands.

"Ooh, alpha snuggles. I'm on it."

The woman -- Lucy, apparently -- vaults the couch Lena's on and rips her T-shirt off. It lands on Lena's face. Her army uniform must have been removed somewhere along the way.

Sleep is closing in fast on Lena. This couch is lovely, squashy and cheaper than her pretentious Italian furnishings. Which means it was made to sleep on, not entertain on.

"Lena," Kara murmurs, shaking her.

"If you wanna sleep, babe, I'll cuddle but the heat will kick up. It'll be worse when you wake."

"M'tired. Can't fuck you," Lena whines. 

_That thing requires a whole level of consent above and beyond._

"Sorry, babe. Want me to help you get off? Won't be the same but it'll help."

"Why not?" Lena yawns.

Lucy pipes up from her place on the floor where she's positioned her bare breast under Alex's sleep-loosened fingers. Lucy makes this look easy. Make it look fucking normal that she took off the uniform of a Major in the United States Army just so she can get sleepy hands on her nipple.

"This really is your first, huh? The heat wants us to breed, Lena. It's like that week of your cycle where you think you'd take near anything with a dick, just turned up to a thousand. Puts our sexy little brains right in the frying pan. That's why emergency heat-break drugs are controlled substances. Alpha fluids contain gobs of serotonin, oxytocin, that kind of thing. That's what breaks it. Birth control will keep you from getting pregnant but if you don't get that zing skin-to-skin, it takes for-fucking-ever to fade. Why do you think heat buddies are a thing but one night stands aren't? Fluid bond. You need Big, sticky, hard _gobs of it."_

"Shut up," Lena grumbles, throwing a spare pillow.

Kara laughs.

"I will separate you two if I have to."

"I'll be good," Lucy pouts.

"Yeah, I doubt that." 

Kara's big hand curls around Lena's ass.

"Babe, there's what I call the five-step system. I can use my fingers or my mouth."

"M'listening."

"Hors d'oeuvre," Kara murmurs, lifting Lena's fingertips to her lips.

"Soup course," she teases, licking into Lena's mouth.

"Appetizers," she mumbles into Lena's nipple.

"Salad."

She tugs, gently as she can at Lena's bush.

"Fuck!" she grunts.

She scowls down and wants to look angry but there's sapphire eyes, dark and blown out and peering at her over the curve of her own mound. Kara winks at her.

_That was just to get me to look at her. If I let her eat me out, I'm going to be in love. I should stop her but I'm fairly certain I'll die in the night if I don't get something._

Lena nods her approval.

"Main course," Kara purrs, painting her breath over Lena's sin. "Heck, it's dessert too. Because baby, you're the whole damn meal."

Lena's legs are over Kara's shoulders now and she's nosing and breathing and tonguing and _searching_ Lena's cunt for the part she finds tastiest and for all she knows those IQ points she had this morning will never come back and Kara's really good with her tongue and it can't be that important.


	4. Dumb Move.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Kara is smitten, Lena is boneless, maybe a little foolish and wondering if this is what it's like to have a crush on a girl.

**Kara Zor-El Danvers**

**  
**Someone is shaking her. For the first time that she can remember she didn't wake when the sun crossed the horizon and someone is shaking her.

"M'sleepy," Kara whines.

"Babe?" Alex whispers. "Look."

Lucy rouses and lifts her rubbery neck to look.

"God, it's like a sexy boneless chicken," Lucy snickers. "All white meat."

Lena has kicked off the covers Kara put over than and full-on octopus-ed her. Lena's sleep and heat-loosened limbs are everywhere. One arm has been cast over Kara's ribs. Another lolls against Lena's own torso and her legs are bracketing Kara's thighs. Slick runs from Lena's core to her knees and Alex had the common sense to put a towel down. Her nose is pressed into Kara's neck and her drool wets the _perfect_ spot for a bite mark. Alex's is on the other side of her collarbone.

"How is she still _asleep?_ Ally, she's burning up."

Alex shrugs.

"Got the best heat buddy. When she wakes she can pop an Advil. She's not even at one hundred. She'll live."

"Long as you get her some Vitamin D," Lucy jokes, jogging her hips against an imaginary partner. "3000ccs, stat."

Alex groans.

"That'd be bigger than a fucking soda bottle, you twit."

"And?"

Kara shifts. 

"S'not that big," she mumbles. "Don't want to hurt her."

"Yes, it is," Alex and Lucy reply as one.

"Kara," Lucy whispers. "I'm a light sleeper. She tried to sleep jack you like, three times in the night. She wants you."

Alex snorts.

"Don't look at me, I was asleep. Would explain why she's favoring her wrist. But really, more like 1500ccs, tops. You won't, babe. All right, comedian..."

She scoops Lucy up and throws her over her shoulder.

"Takeout bagels in the oven when you need them. I'm gonna go fuck the sass out of this one."

"Yes!" Lucy crows. "I'm really sassy, so that means she's gonna fuck me a lot."

Alex slaps her bronzed ass to shut her up and Kara watches Lucy's thumbs-up disappear around the corner of the hallway into the play bedroom.

"Stay," Alex rumbles.

Lena snaps to at the tone in Alex's voice. She tightens and tenses and smells _terrified_ and if Kara can't fix this, she's throwing herself into the sun.

"Where am I?" she whispers.

Kara can't help it. The eyebrows are too pretty. She kisses them.

"Remember the plane crash?"

"You saved me," Lena whispers.

She presses a kiss to the juncture of throat and collarbone.

"Thanks."

"M'happy too. Glad I met you."

Lena hums.

"Me too. Fuck a duck!" She hisses, shuddering as her insides gurgle and clench.

"You were _not_ kidding that it would get worse."

"M'sorry."

"Want you to face me," Lena says, voice picking up an octave.

"M'not sure wh-"

_Those fucking eyebrows._

"I want to see it first and then I want it inside me but I need to look in your blue eyes while we go. I need to..."

Lena sighs.

"I've never had a crush. Wasn't raised to get ion touch with my emotions. Sex is just like scratching an itch. This is the first time I've been naked for two minutes before foreplay. This is the first time I've spooned anyone. Don't know what I'm feeling."

Kara chuckles, hearing her own voice drop from the start of the laugh to the end.

"M'charming. Course you're falling for me."

"Ass."

"Ass-k my wife. Charming."

"You're fired," Lena grumbles, wriggling like she wants to get up.

"Do you actually want to leave, pretty girl? Because this is all about what you need. What I need...can be later, if ever."

"No," Lena admits. "I don't. This sucks and I actually slept, a little because I had you near me. Except for when I couldn't and tried to jack you off into my cunt. Try some of this serotonin I've been hearing about."

"So you _weren't_ asleep when you did that."

"Good actress," Lena teases. "Luthor thing. How I avoided getting killed by my family."

"Lucy Lane is a liar," Kara grumbles. 

"Afraid so."

"Well, that was rude. Would've liked to feel you do that. Bad omega. Gonna have to fuck you now. Real hard."

Kara taps the tip of Lena's nose and she licks the retreating finger.

"Hope," Kara growls. "Spicy playlist."

Lena's hips stutter and her puffy lips glide along Kara's leg. A cheerful tone indicates the music started.

"This isn't mu-mmmmm," Lena purrs. "It's...it's like a vibrator but it's going in my ears."

"Soothing, right? Looped recordings of alpha breathing. Asleep when they're in rut."

"You and Alex," Lena realizes. "Recognize the rattle."

She puts her palm on the ribs under Kara's breasts.

"That one," she breathes.

Kara frees herself from the sweats and grabs her shaft before it can flop onto Lena's stomach.

"Look down, pretty girl."

Lena cracks one green eye open and glances.

"You're fucking joking."

"M'not. Klixen match their maturation to their owner's hormones."

"Hence yours looking like you could destroy a Mongol horde with it. Horses and all."

"You're really weird," Kara laughs into Lena's hair. "Also, gross."

"I changed my mind. Fist me and go up to the elbow. That'll actually be smaller."

"It's _shorter_ than that."

Lena groans.

"Only shorter, huh? You fucking measured it. Probably in all dimensions. Such a _guy."_

"Alex's idea. For our high school ex."

Lena's sloppy, shaking fingers trace the vein below and rummage in the sweats for Kara's balls.

"Smooth," she murmurs. "God. These are..." She whistles.

_Bigger than my palm._

Kara turns Lena's head and licks her jugular.

"They're _loaded_ Lena. Heavy and full because I smelled you all night. It's so I can make my pretty girl feel better." 

Imra's voice rattles in some heat-shattered memory.

_Donor tissue._

"That's how Superman transitioned," Lena mumbles into Kara's shoulder. "Always wondered. Was glad it wasn't Lex holding the scalpel. You helped him."

"He's my cousin and he was hurting. Had to protect him. If you're not on birth control, I should get a condom."

"I'm okay."

_Because I don't want to out and out lie._

"What's this?" Lena asks. "Feels like a brand."

"S-s-symbol," Kara gulps. "Breeders mark."

"L-Corps don't have those."

"This is from Krypton, Lena. Made for a member of m-"

"Nyssa-Vex," Lena finishes.

"Yeah. She actually had it set aside for when I came of age. Pod auto-piloted to Earth on a timer." 

"Lady who sold me the one I used for our testing mentioned her."

"Imra. Little shit. Spreading rumors about my grandmother."

"Friend of yours?"

"Irma? Word of a Saturnarian with the telekinetic chops to dildo two girls at once in three holes gets around. But no."

"She didn't want to work in a Luthor owned building so I gave her the apartment below me. Explains the yelping I hear all day."

Kara buries her face in Lena's hair.

"Can we stop talking about _other people,_ please?"

"Put some lube on that and I'll consider it."

"I can get you a breakfast smoothie while I'm up. We, ah..."

"Aren't in the habit of living room fucking?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I might have a _really_ bad heat and I do have gobs of sick leave. _Big, gooey, sticky gobs_ of sick leave so you might want to change your approach."

Lena gives her one slow, punishingly tight pump.

"Go. Fetch."

"Flavor?"

"Strawberry, please. And some water. And Kara?"

"Mmm?"

"In the Song of Saela, isn't it written that Vhoc and Flamebird may never be torn apart?" 

She nods towards the terrariums.

Kara looks down at the tiny, silky, creamy-soft, and utterly _fragile_ woman below her. Who just asked Kara to double penetrate her.

_Not sure whether to call a marriage judge or a fucking psychologist. Ask Harley later._

"Yeah," she gulps. "It does. I'll swing by the bathroom on my way."

* * *

**Lena Luthor**

Since she has time to kill, Lena gets up and takes in her surroundings. Playpen and diaper bag -- though there's no smell of children here, she somehow knows she'd smell them -- and a poster-size picture of Alex and Kara with a ghostly pale redhead in Army Uniform with a buzz cut and a small Latina in Gotham City Police dress blues. The same women in band T-shirts and mom jeans, holding two caramel-skinned, red-haired brats.

_Kate Kane and Maggie Sawyer. They swim in the right circles._

Pictures of Kara, Alex, and someone who seems to be Alex's mom. Picture of Kara laughing with a scruffy man in a 'just do IT guys' shirt at a dive bar. PIcture of handcuffs stamped "FBI" and a note with a date on it on a white drop cloth. The note reads 'baby's first trafficking bust' and Lena can't help her smile.

Kara's diploma. Communications and Public Relations, Stanford.

Alex's diplomas. Stanford, pre-med, Psychology and ROTC. Six year gap. Berkley, Xenobiology and Vascular Surgery and a license from the State of California.

Alex's DD-214 indicating one six-year tour. In lieu of medals, a series of redacted marks with the word 'awarded' and in two cases 'awarded with distinction' under it.

A unit pin for Marine Corp 2nd Battalion, 5th Marines, listing a who's who of messy, brutal encounters the unit fought in from Bellau wood to Guadalcanal to Hue in Vietnam. Master Sargent's chevrons off the uniform. Operation Enduring Freedom and Operation Vigilant Stargazer ribbons.

Alex is an ex-Marine with medals she can't tell anyone about. Black ops assignment. Explains exactly how they know first-female-Army Ranger and tomboy lesbian's wet-dream Kate Kane well enough to have a guest diaper bag for her kids.

TV stand with a Karaoke machine, sappy movies on Blu-Ray, all the Disney animated musicals that exist. Six boxes of lotioned KIeenex. Wizard of Oz and Terminator 2.

There's a cordless phone with a sticky pad next to it. Ugly as shit and hooked to some sort of fancy microphone array. Probably required for Alex's work that they have one.

She grabs the pad, scratches out a few words with shaking fingers, and puts the note on the upward slope of her left breast.

"Hope, text the following number: 218-432-8919."

"Message?"

"Ronnie, we're breaking up. Take care of yourself. If you need to come by for stuff, email Jess."

"Ready to send it?"

Lena wriggles back onto the couch so she's over the armrest with easy access and spreads her legs.

"Never readier, Hope. Send."

"Catch!" Kara calls from the hallway before winging a cloth-wrapped bundle past the couch.

 _Wrapped in the T-Shirt she was wearing,_ Lena realizes, bunching up the cotton under her nose. _Because she knows. So much more than I do. I'm a blank slate and I have to trust she's not brainwashing me while my mental state is fucked. So why aren'_ _t I scared of her?_

Untying the sleeve, she shakes out some party favors. Dental dam. Two bullet vibes. Light-feeling bottle of human-made _Drakar Noir Omega._ She shakes it and thinks she hears something rattling inside. Unscrewing the lid she shakes four micro-syringes of clearly alien design out. Two are empty and they're in a piece of paper reading "for the girls".

_Why the fuck not?_

Lena doesn't realize until _after_ she shoots the crimson, thick fluid into her jugular that she has no idea what she just put in her body.

When every muscle in her body stops working at once and she flops gelatinously onto the carpet, the note unrolls the rest of the way

**_'For the girls, the special ones we can never let go.'_ **

"Aw, fuck," Lena grumbles through her numb mouth.

Kara walks in with two fat, heavy cocks sticking out of her. Less than half-mast and as such, dragged down by the weight of the weeping heads She must have inserted the second one upside down and some strange contractions tied the balls together, between them. A joke about a Scotsman and a baseball game comes to Lena's mind and she _really wishes_ she could talk because Kara's jokes are sexy and now she can't make words.

"Lee? Why are you on the floor, beautiful?"

"Fwinge. Wab fupid," Lena explains.

Kara's eyes track to the scattered injectors and the lube bottle.

"Could've asked," Kara grumbles, folding her arms. "I'm not sure I can make more of that." 

This not only makes the ropy cords of muscle jump out but lifts her breasts. Too big for Lena to get all the way in her mouth or in her hands very biteable looking and that's all that matters. On a human bodybuilder, those would be undoubtedly fake, lost with the rest of the body fat. Human bodybuilders wouldn't have those flexing, tensing flanks of muscle that wrap over wide hips, hidden by just enough softness that they don't make Lena's hands sore to grab.

Lena's not sure if she wants those hips to make all her babies or if she wants those pillars of golden muscle to shatter her pelvis from behind. Or both.

Kara sighs.

"Right. Nimda?"

A petite android with blue and gold trim and plasma thrusters rather than legs sails into the room.

_Right. Alien. I'm going to get fucked to death by an alien._

"Explain to Lena what she just did. File 182 and then run her through the Shiver project."

"M'numb," Lena complains. It takes a lot of words to get a word together. Or a lot of thoughts. It's one or the other. 

"I really wanted to actually fuck you, too. Feel you, if m'being honest. You're just so soft and I like this little silky spot here," Kara teases, running her finger along a slight curve of fat that Lena's personal trainer blamed on a lack of crunches. 

"You're not feeling much right now, but if you want, I can help you adjust."

Lena wiggles her fingers at the phone. Kara slides it forward and Lena pecks out a message and hits text-to-speech.

"Stretch me out while I can't feel it. Ruin me for everyone else. When I get sensation back, we can duck. Duck. Stupid forking phone won't let me type swears."

Kara arranges herself behind Lena and there's a long, squelching _maddening_ sound and some slick movement and she's lubed up and lifting Lena's hips over her lap. Pressing against Lena, above and below.

"You sure?"

Lena types something into the phone.

"I wear a steel plug every other day. Practically on a liquid diet. Go."

Kara pushes in slow and careful and Lena suspects it would hurt so _deliciously_ if she still had a central nervous system. There's no feeling, just arrangement. She's aware that closing her legs feels too _tight_ now and that that's about it.

"Bite my finger, hard if I do _anything_ to hurt you."

"File-182," the robot intones. "Pacification and Population Preservation Project during the Conquest of Daxam."

"Skip the fancy parts," Kara grunts. "Viruses. Purpose and reason for deployment. Include human codenames."

"Virus 1. Nerve-targeting viral infection, low load, minimal inflammation. Additionally, stimulates the production of all blood cell types with a fivefold increase in rates. Metabolic needs increase by three hundred percent for the duration of infection and the hibernation period. Incubation of thirty-eight _**makra** , the _initial course runs in three **_vharyh_ **leading to continued, lifelong viral load below the threshold of inflammatory or symptomatic response."

"Four minutes. A military unit of time," Kara growls, stabbing forward again. "And the word for our solar day. Bout a week and a half."

"Rao, you feel good around my cock. Wanna be heat buddies. Wanna be friends. Wanna cuddle. Think I wanna be _yours_."

_I just infected myself for life and brained myself for at least a week and I'm trapped in an apartment with two-mouthwatering butches and this one makes me feel things. Feel sappy things every time I fuck her and I feel them without permission. Great._

"Primary purpose: initiate temporary full-body paralysis and anesthetic effect for battlefield triage. Blood cell production leads to decreased recovery time for severe blood loss. A metabolic spike provides nutrients and aids in muscle growth. Secondary purpose: increase levels of chlatorine hormone to increase trust behavior and desire to reduce social conflict. Tertiary purpose: induced trance to enhance reflex acquisition, re-activate infant and childhood reflexes and greatly increase procedural memory uptake."

"Known uses, military: Orbital bombing deployed after suicide bombings in Daxamite imperial palace to render the population unable to resist and allow for searching and containment of terrorists. Subsequent attempts to re-educate Daxamites for population-sustaining family structure failed. Continual voluntary use by High Gaurd in the Military Guild, Starhavenite, Saturnian, and Perseian elite infantry and pilot units for rapid skills uptake in weapons use, self-defense, and reaction time."

"Human codename: Persephone."

"Known uses, civilian: Krypton, various spousal and sexual pairings. Earth, Kara Zor-El Danvers, Alex Danvers during honeymoon and Lena Luthor, intentions unknown."

_Bring her to the underworld and keep her docile._

"Virus 2. Genophage to activate dormant genetics for reproduction dating from pre-written history. Genes activated are related to pack bonding, pheromone glands, olfactory and gustatory sensory enhancement, social group behavior, and cyclical fertility. Inflammation of the upper sinuses and tendons in the neck leads to rapid maturation of previously dormant structures."

_The fever. That's why there's a fever._

"Created with the intention to break subliminally programmed unwillingness of non-royal Daxamites to engage voluntarily in reproduction and marriage with non-royals to prevent the occurrence of a zero-birth-rate extinction."

"Effects include gender separation in some sentient life forms into three psychological genders regardless of physical sexual phenotype. Type 1 through 3. These can roughly be described as dominant/protective/collaborative, social/conciliatory/nurturing and emotional/stimulating/motivational. Typical reproductive behaviors continue for Type 2 with the only modification being increased sex drive and significantly increased pair-bonding and friendship-seeking urges."

_Alpha, strong and smart and possessive. Pack hunting and tribe making. Like Kara and Alex. Betas, likable, easygoing, good friends, not thinking with their dicks. Like Jess. Omegas, messy, emotional, baby-making, cock-teasing. Like me. Exactly what I don't want to be._

"Type 1 exhibits territorial behavior, altered non-verbal communication, creative drive and in some cases, manic episodes of unhealthy productivity. Attempts to intrude on developed territory trigger confrontational and violent impulses in all but the most well-behaved. A hormonally patterned cycle of continually increased sex drive overlayed with intense periods of sexual promiscuity and mate-seeking behavior, coupled with extreme spike in fertility forms the new reproductive pattern."

"Type 3 individuals experience moods swings initially. This is followed by a heightened emotional response and sensitivity to pheromone, auditory and visual cues of nearby individuals in distress. Nesting behavior increases and the individual seeks out multiple compatible partners and maintains proximity and an extreme tactile need for comfort. Unclear if this behavior is due to desire to breed or desire to have sexual partners readily available for cyclical spikes in hormone levels that lead to a fever-mimic illness that intensifies until soothed by compatible individuals and ideally, sexual activity. The maximal fertility rate is no longer blocked by the nursing of an infant. The exponential increase in healing rates of female reproductive organs, especially uterine and cervical tissue. Recovery ability in males increases drastically. Personality traits increased include social attunement to group behavior, empathy and ability to predict responses in others, and many reports indicate a desire to engage in creative, musical, or dance-related hobbies."

"Known instances of deployment: Krypton, volunteer testers for the ethical board. Daxam, a military project that was unsuccessful in preventing extinction. Earth, false-flag terrorist operation with minimal casualties and associated with positive legislative changes surrounding female reproductive rights along with the development of new tribal, social, and civic structures in some regions."

"Human codename: Cerberus."

_Great, I even did them out of order. I'm really good at this._

Lena reaches for the phone again. Kara is still now, inside her. Just letting her mold to the intrusion. Lena taps a new message into the phone.

"You tried to save them, Daxamites."

"Yeah," Kara sighs. "The Emporer had all females, hell, all of everybody, so mindfucked that unless trigger words only his family knew were used, sexual attraction resulted in panic and a fight or flight reaction. The Galactic Coalition approved the invasion without knowing that because they were taking slaves. High Guard made it quick and clean. Took the head of the monster. In so doing...created a population who didn't know how to govern themselves or want to make babies."

Kara's softening inside her now.

"Daxamites are _us,_ Lee. They were. Genetically the same species. Orbits in parallel locked a half million miles from our planet. Just a colony that split off and over time, developed a really fucked up monarchy while we went back to electronic democracy. House of El, including my great-grandfather, made that virus. Our greatest shame as a house was failing our kin."

Lena taps into the phone.

"Lay with me. On me. I like the weight."

Kara leans over her, bracing herself on her arms but strangely, not pulling out.

"No. Too warm. Too perfect. If you can't enjoy fucking your hot little pussy, I will. Agreed?"

"Agreed. Hand on my back. Hold me down."

Kara does as asked, one big hand on Lena's shoulderblades kneading tense muscles Kara can feel and she cants and two huge cocks plunging in and out of Lena hard and fast.

"Tight," Kara grunts. "Wet. Soft. Feels good. Going to fill you. So good."

There's a giantess panting behind her, painting wet breath on the back of her neck and flipping between growly, knuckle-dragging praise of Lena's _anatomy_ and gasping proclamations of how good it is to be with Lena.

"First dat- _uhh_!-movie. Dinner and a movie. Classic."

"Royale has canola oil pop- _fuck!_ and those nice seats."

"Take you home som- _holy shit!_ -meet my family. They'll...oh, Rao!...love you."

As her first half dozen stream-of-consciousness ideas about courtship are punctuated by punishing lunges into Lena, it occurs that Kara is probably in love. Lena should probably have a first date before she turns thirty-five anyway.

Heat sex isn't so bad and she hasn't even been able to feel it.

When Kara comes it's with a sharp, snarling grunt. Buried in all of it though, clear as day, is her own name. 

"Leeena," she grinds out. Fresh wetness splashes from Lena's core because she only needed her _ears_ for that, not her skin.

Kara puts both hands on Lena's back now and rubs them in quick circles.

"So good for me, pretty girl."

Lena reaches for the phone.

"Tell me about the training virus, please."

Kara chuckles.

"How attached are you to your gag reflex, babe? You are born without it and can breathe and suck but you get it as a kid...and right now you're pretty much reprogrammable."

_Fuck. Me. Sideways._

"I'm a Luthor, darling. I adore learning new things."

"God, I wish I heard that In your actual voice," Kara groans. "S'nice and sexy, your voice."

\-----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3000ccs is three thousand cubic centimeters and 1000 cubic centimeters is one liter. Since that's one and a half of the large soda bottles (family sized ones) Lucy is exaggerating. This isn't gentai.  
> \---  
> Scotsman Baseball Joke:
> 
> A Scotsman moves to the USA and; finally attends his first baseball game.  
> The first batter approached the batter's box, took a few swings, and then hit a double. Everyone was on their feet screaming "Run," "Run."  
> The next batter hit a single and the Scotsman listened as the crowd again cheered "RUN, RUN."  
> The Scotsman enjoyed the game and began screaming with the fans.  
> The fifth batter came up and four balls went by. The umpire called "Walk" and the batter started his slow trot to first base.  
> The Scotsman stood up and screamed, "R-R-Run ye bastard, Run!"  
> The people around him began laughing. Embarrassed, the Scotsman sat back down. A friendly fan noted the man's embarrassment, leaned over and explained, "He can't run, he's got four balls."  
> The Scotsman stood up and screamed, "Walk with Pride, laddie, Walk with Pride!"


	5. High-Risk Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Alex is done a startle, Lena invents a new fetish, Lucy feels neglected and it's Jess to the rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't perfect science but it's not total bullshit either. That is how fertilization happens and the human cervix does dilate (widely, under certain conditions) and can be pleasurable during sex although it's like 0.0001% of women like having it touched.

**Alex Zor-El Danvers**

The bathrobe is comfy but the dopey, cuddly, wobbly Lucy that followed her with a hand on her shoulder and a greedy, seeking nose on her neck? That is is less helpful.

"How do you get into trouble like this?" Alex groans.

"Superpower," Kara whines.

"So you're..." 

Alex gently prods Lena's abdomen just below the navel and is rewarded with something between a laugh and a snore from Lena and a sharp hiss from Kara.

"Holy shit. That's...you, isn't it babe?"

Kara blushes bright and it's the shy, easily startled girl she fell in love with at Midvale High.

"Lena just started really moving and she seemed to like it and I didn't even realize it was happening!" 

"You just fucked past her cervix without realizing it."

"I think?" 

Alex pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Can you?"

"She's not as relaxed as she was. If got kinda watery all of a sudden and she came, real hard. Sort pulling me close and curling and uncurling with her whole body, like a caterpillar. I did too and...here we are."

"Right. She really just shot the Persephone up on a whim?"

"Yeah."

Kara sniffs.

"Did I hurt her?"

"Babe," Alex coos, reaching for Kara's shoulder. "There's no anesthetic in the world that would let her have _that_ happen and not claw your eyes out. You didn't damage her pieces. She must've dilated without realizing it and I guess really liked the sudden new sensation. Probably need to talk to this one about kinks before you go again. You were already a couple rounds in, right? After doing a reflex training session, right?"

Kara nods.

Alex puffs at her hair while she thinks.

"Well, my hunch is she loosened up, maybe your semen has a higher-than-average relaxant effect."

"Danvers are great!" Lucy slurs.

"I oughta lay you down for a nap but it'd be Thursday before I could scrape you off the carpet," she grumbles at Lucy.

Lucy puts her little hand on her hip. Right on that sweaty, caramelized salty-sweet skin.

"I'm sexy like that."

The realization hits Alex square in the face.

"Is she on birth control?"

"She said, yeah."

"Lucy. Lucy!" Alex snaps, putting all of her growl into it to reboot her. "Bathroom, red box. Now."

Lucy shuffles off, not so much pouty as loose.

"Penny for your thoughts, wifey?"

"If she is on birth control, say an IUD, you might've dislodged it. Bad, but any hospital can treat that. If she's not on one of the newer multi-year suppressants, we're really in the shit."

"How so?"

"Eggs are released from the ovaries, drift into the fallopian tubes and implant. At any time there's one released -- usually -- but with an omega that blasted? First heat, especially as a grown woman? Probably more than one."

"So? Wouldn't birth control help?"

"Only if the egg made it to the womb first. It would fail to implant. So the fallopian tubes are open-ended. Sort of have a scoop on them. The whole thing assumes that the semen has to travel from the vagina past the cervix and into the womb from there to the tube, meeting in the middle. Rather than being shot all over her abdominal cavity. You sounded pretty worked up even from another room. There's probably some in direct contact with the ovaries. Ectopic pregnancies are no joke and she's probably got several cooking right now. The body is meant to _not_ attack embryos for obvious reasons. Outside the womb? They're tumors, Kara. Lethal."

"We better ask her about the birth control again and what kind, when she wakes up."

"IUDs are metal, right?"

Alex nods. Kara looks down.

"Nothing down there but me and Lena."

"Small favors."

Lucy puts the box in Alex's hand.

"Thanks, babe."

Lucy yawns and pat's Alex's bare backside.

"Gonna go nap in Alex smell. When you get uncorked, Kara, I want a turn."

Kara nods stiffly, trying not to cry.

"Babe," Alex coos, taking her hand. "This is fixable. Maybe less than ideal having to take her to the ER like this but especially knowing it's coming, she'll live."

"Good," Kara croaks, scooping Lena into her arms, ignoring the pain that blazes through her body at the unfortunate change of angle. "So sorry, pretty girl."

\-----

Lena comes to a while later with a smile and a peck on Kara's lips. Alex crouches down. Kara's softened enough to slide ot fully now. Must have hurt but that was probably the stimulus needed to soften her up.

"Lena, sweetie, I need to ask some questions. Full doctor-patient and I'll get you a doctor for this, someone who..."

Alex gulps.

"Doesn't want to fuck you stupid."

"Uh, yeah. I guess."

"What sort of birth control are you on, Lee?"

"None. Lesbian activity only. As a Catholic, it was kind of a freebie. The rule I could obey without actually caring."

"Oh," Alex murmurs.

"You didn't say that, Lee!" Kara complains.

"I really wanted to feel you come inside and you asked if I didn't _want to risk it_ and I was okay with that so it wasn't quite a lie and...and...I thought I'd..."

Lena crashes into Kara, all tears and long white fingers digging desperately into the skin.

"Don't leave me here," she pleads.

Alex sighs. She plops down on the floor across from Kara.

"Bring her here, Kara."

It's a ridiculous shuffle of limbs and butts and carpet fibers and it's clumsy but soon Alex is pressed up against Lena's back and Kara against her front. Kara is on Alex's lap and Lena is on Kara's.

"She's so smooth," Alex gasps when Lena's shoulderblades make contact with her breasts. "Soft. Skin's tickly. Her neck her cheekbones and _fuck_ , just generally holy fuck she's cute. This is amazing, her hair."

They each wind a hand in Lena's hair and scratch lazily.

"Deep breaths, pretty girl," Kara rumbles.

Seven years of marriage and common-sense incompatible as an alpha-alpha but Alex feels the pull of that voice in her bones. As an omega unused to being the center of attention, it must be shaking Lena apart, melting her emotions just as the heat was trying to melt her organs.

"It's the heat, pretty girl. You're on knife's edge right now," Alex coos. "A lot like how pregnant women get real teary later along. Nothing that happens this weekend sticks. Not unless you want it to."

"Can we stay until we fall asleep?" Lena pleads. "Do everything tomorrow?"

"Right side?"

"Totally," Kara chuckles.

Alex veers left and kisses Lena's temple while Kara goes right.

"Anything, pretty girl. While I definitely understand the appeal of Kara, I am pretty curious about the tasty slice who triggered my wife into full rut after three seconds in freefall."

"You're in rut?" Lena asks.

"Yeah. Just I'm used to it," Kara replies, carding her hands through salty, messy black curls. "You're new at it so I focused on you. M'nice like that."

"You are, Kara," Lena croaks. "You are. And I want to see _Bend it Like Beckam_ at the Royale, this Saturday when screen three is doing Queer and Quintessential. I'll buy. Need a chaperone though. Lillian raised a lady," Lena sniffs. "Maybe that charming wife of yours. She can keep you to herself so you get me home at nine."

"Can we keep it?" Kara jokes.

"You and your damned strays," Alex grumbles. "Vegan is one thing. Do you know how much crap I get for having a cat breeding permit, even a sham one, in my line of work? Speaking of which, Lucy, can you unleash the herd?"

The sight of Lena Luthor tipping out of theeir arms, buried in foster kittens, two grumpy calicos, three beagles and her own laughter is something Alex never wants to forget.


	6. B!tch Magazine, October 2021 Issue - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interview with Cat Grant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author lets their Worldbuilding!Kink out to play.

**_The Omega Female: Cat Grant on Femininity, Fierceness, and Family_  
**

**Nia Nal, Contributing Columnist  
** (she/her, bisex-alpha, Trevor Project outreach liaison for trans-alpha youth)

NN: I see you've dressed to break the internet, but I'm afraid this is a print piece.  
  
CG: Well, any woman who doesn't like what she's wearing, look, comfort, all of it is setting herself up for a bad day.  
  
NN: Tell me about being The First Omega CEO(tm) and all that goes with that.  
  
CG: Honestly, all that changed was I had a legally defensible way to bring a ****buddy and now trophy wife to work. [laughs] But I think it's really fascinating how quickly things "changed" and quite frankly, didn't. How they changed in all the wrong ways.

NN: It's been less than a year.  
  
CG: Exactly. This your memorial issue for Janine Davis. How in the space of one year did we go from the idea that there was a new angle to human sexuality that required our immediate attention or people would _die_ to the idea that there's some pre-ordained divine right of men who are also alpha-coded to have a supermodel's mouth attached to their cock at all times?  
  
NN: You're the one who knows supermodels, Cat.   
  
CG: Well I can assure you that isn't how they're spending their time. Sometimes I think their jobs are the only ones not disrupted. Sit, look sexy at an inanimate object made of plastic and glass that's twenty feet away, repeat, cash in. Unless the photographer is an absolute waste of skin, their workday didn't change. Distance jobs, let's call them. Distant and lonely. In a call center, a person, alpha, omega, beta, female, male, whatever is stewing in their scent and everyone else's too. The fact that the caller can't smell it isn't relevant. It's affecting them. Usually not performance, I like to think better of people but their comfort level. Did she snap at the guy for putting cheese in his printer or was it because her boss was in her space trying to choke her with alpha pheromones, an act finally recognized as harassment?  
  
Because at a certain point it _does_ affect her ability to consent in the same way that being drunk or even being choked would. Unregulated, untreated heat _hurts._ It's no joke. If he's not letting her leave and not giving her space, she might grin and bear it. Putting yourself in the line of someone who wants relief but not from you is rape, full stop. So why is that what it took over a hundred cases of obviously unwanted sex in public for us to catch on. Why did twenty women go to jail for ****ing men they obviously couldn't stand when the real story was that the men had intuited their status and the women hadn't? Why did it take that head-scratching new development to make _looming near an employee's desk_ seem an aggressive act?  
  
I'm not happy about the suffering it took to get here it but this whole thing has been bright red, undeniable proof of sexual harassment in the workplace and the best evidence I've ever had to defend my company and its policies of female friendly, mother-friendly, lactation-friendly workspaces.

NN: I want to circle back around to your activism but first, I want to pick your brain about something you said earlier.  
  
CG: Pick my brain all you like but easy on the hair darling, I just had it done.  
  
NN: [let the record indicate the interviewer laughed for three minutes]

NN: You mentioned changing and not changing. Tell me what you mean.

CG: Well, after the Janine Davis case and Red Wednesday after it I think there was this moment. For thousands of years, religious texts were written by men -- sorry, Ted Cruz -- for men have told us that sex is either A) something very sinful that God only forgives us if we make babies and probably doesn't forgive women or that B) that sex is _optional_ and good people just don't have it. That we are not all, on some level, deeply sexual beings. 

There's a nun I work with on Native American rights stories. She's celibate of course. Her heat ritual is prayer, fasting except for heavy doses of pot chocolate, hot baths and organic scent mimics. The Cerberus virus reminded everyone that she _does_ have a sex drive and that to answer the call it _does_ matter because when she did what the boys said, when she was chaste and ignored it? 

She had a heat-seizure in the middle of a speech. At the Vatican. On worldwide television. Proved rather embarrassing for the pope given her profile.

I actually have a good friend who is aro-ace and he says that his world changed too. He's still not interested in what we're selling but he mentioned over brunch that it was like Wizard of Oz, but for his nose, I think was how he put it. Mr. Kord, old friend, if I'm wrong, feel free to correct me on that quote.

NN: Besides an awesome hook for a perfume line, what's Wizard of Oz for your nose?   
  
CG: We're not just broadcasting our urges, we're broadcasting a thousand other things. Betas typically can't smell heat or rut but they can smell sadness, panic, anxiety, and even if they can't _name that_ they know something's up. Alphas and Omegas too but the sex aspect warps our focus. Ted told me that he went to the farmers market and he could smell a mother was nervous about a father's looking at the baby's eyes. He could smell that the girl working the honey booth was not avoiding the girl working the butcher's booth because she didn't like her but because she liked her too much and her father was smelling angry. Think about that. Ted's technically alpha coded but he smelled a whole life story and it wasn't that he wanted it sexually, it was a new layer to his senses.

NN: I feel like I'm lost.  
  
CG: Well, you smell heavenly, darling. I'm in a daze. Kudos to everyone involved.

NN: Flirt.

CG: Guilty. [laughs] But in all seriousness, think about what Ted described, this whole new way of experiencing life and compare it to statements like Morgan Edge declaring that Omegas were not welcome in his office. Which is hilarious to me because I, regrettably, have been in his office and it's a wolf's den of gold-digger musk in there. He was immediately sued of course but my question is: why? Because they might 'sully' his 'reputation' if he were suddenly to have one. All of it predicated on the Madonna/Whore false binary. Big strong men might be too tempted by their _urges_ is the part that's not being said. 

Because as well all know, the 18% to 27% of the population that is known to be female and alpha-coded doesn't exist.   
  
I think that's sad. We had this moment of self-reflection, particularly after Janine and Red Wednesday. We had this challenge where we had to confront that sex was something real and visceral and as Red Wednesday proved, _necessary_ to human beings. Extreme abstinence teachings in Janine's church killed her. Male purity tests, homophobia, racism, a dozen other awful things killed people who couldn't admit that the people involved _wanted the sex_ and looked for scapegoats.

Yes, laws were changed and I think certain people know they have work to do on that account.

| 

NN: Let me just interrupt you to say Mitch McConnell just put on brown pants.  
  
CG: I would hope so. Let's think about what it says that last year, the right thing to do in my company was have a zero-tolerance on sex in the workplace and now the right thing, in fact, the decent and _safe_ thing is to have seventy-two rooms set aside for sudden onset heat or shelter-in-place if someone feels hormonally threatened. I have a line item for vibrator reimbursement from employees who grab one when they're having a moment, for pity's sake.

NN: What's your take on heat buddies? Like them, love them, leave them? who's your fantasy pick?

CG: Well, can I say Siobahn? It's cliche but she actually does make me laugh and we get along.

NN: I'm afraid my editor says you have to pick a second best. I've seen your wife on your arm in press photos. That's a suckers bet.

CG: I've never had one. Shocking, I know. I actually used escorts for four months because the fact was I thought I might be the only female omega CEO or maybe just the only one period. It was the first few months and right off the bat we'd had pornstars come out as alphas, including, curiously, most of the actresses. Add in Zac Efron, Tom Brady, et al. Charlize Theron but, please, she didn't have to say it. Early on, the cross-section of known alphas were promiscuous tabloid darlings, sex-workers, famously attractive celebrities, or whatever local dude bros we knew in our daily lives. 

It's easy to forget when it seemed like the religious right was finally right: family was collapsing.

We'd seen marriages shatter when long-hidden affairs weren't safe to hide anymore. Six senators resigned in one month, each of them omegas honey-potted unintentionally by an unware female alpha staff member. I had to assume any male or any alpha really was going to turn around, high five their buddies and talk to the first rag who asked.  
  
NN: All the good alphas were lesbians or taken.  
  
CG: Exactly.

NN: Anything to say to the little omega girls who might want to follow in your footsteps?  
  
CG: Your sexuality is your own. Weaponize that shit. Make it work for you. My dad was a cop. He'd say "Cat, watch your doors and corners and check for busted streetlights." he was talking rape prevention but generalize this. Never feel ashamed for wanting a warm body when you're in heat or any other day of the month.

Keep an eye out for whether your cute coworker already has a heat buddy -- that's probably just adding to a casual -- or he is just off a divorce. One is a lot more likely to ruin your career track. One might give you somebody willing to stick up for you in a meeting because he knows you suck a mean dick and also that you love _Pet Rescue_ in the after-crying. You're a whole-ass person to him, now, rough edges and all.  
  
NN: Little beta girls?  
  
CG: Please for the love of God, run the world while we horny maniacs figure our shit out.  
  
NN: Do you have anything to say to little _alpha_ girls?  
  
CG: You have been handed a sexual, physical, and mental edge that no female generation before you has ever enjoyed. Height, muscle mass, sex drive. You have parity and the motivation to exceed. Take back what they stole from your mothers and from all of our mothers eons ago, by force if needs be. For you, the bell curve is gone. Look up at the gilded tower of the patriarchy and rage.

F*** the unhappy wives.

F*** the bicurious daughters. 

F*** the sons too shy to own being an omega or who to want to be an alpha like their dad. 

Make them afraid. Burn it to the ground, sweetlings. Burn it and spit in the ash. 

We omegas will be right behind you with broom and dustpan.  
  
---|---


	7. B!tch Magazine, October 2021 Issue - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drs. Harleen Quinzel and Pamela Isley speak about the genetic roots of the gender genii of alpha, beta and omega.

**_Three Chimpanzees: The Case for Pre-Existing Roots of the Gender Genera in Humans_  
**

Cassandra Sandmark

Guest Columnist amd writer for Themiscyrian Discovery Institute

(she/her/amazon, lesbian-beta, daughter of Wonder Woman)

CS: I told myself I wouldn't ask but I'm sorry, I have to. I'm sitting in a greenhouse in Gotham surrounded by murderous megaflora and I'm speaking to a woman in a chainmail jester's outfit and a human bouquet. Two of the baddest and smartest bitches to walk the earth. Do I get a T-Shirt or something? _"I came to Gotham and I lived?"_  
  
HQ: Told you we should do T-Shirts, Red. I'd prefer _"Gotham Girl's Night Out. Body Count: TBD"_  
  
CS: Before we get too deep in the weeds, let's shake hands. Credentials, self-identify and anyhting else you want to tell me. Dr. Cassandra Pheobe Sandmark. Her Majesty's swordswoman. Beta, Amazonian woman , lesbian.

HQ: Dr. Harley Quinn. I really do prefer that. Omega, woman, pansexual.

PI: Dr. Pamela Isle. Alpha, vegetable woman-mimic, lesbian. 

CS: You two have become sort of the rising stars of research into the virus. Ms. Quinzel was on parole for the illegal use of explosive lawn ornaments at the time. Tell me how that happened.  
  
PI: The concept of 'bed rest' never stopped her when she had the flu, why should 'house arrest' mean anything?

HQ: Aww, Red! You're making me look bad in front of the sexy sword lady! 

PI: This Amazon fetish of hers. Take my wife, please.

HQ: Seriously though. I think that we were the only people who had walked the walk, so to speak. There were people who had done deep dives into sexual psychology but frankly, I lived it. I'd met all the worst, most alpha-y alphas on the planet with my clown of an ex and his other 'dolls' who he kept prisoner with me were mostly truly into it. Omegas before there were omegas, maybe. So I had insight there.   
  
PI: I was basically the only person using or researching human pheromones for sex and suddenly there was honest money in it. When I tested alpha-coded it became clear to me that there's something far deeper going on. Only eight percent of my body is _animal_ tissue to for me to react spoke volumes about the virus.  
  
CS: In fact, your case was used at the UN to counter the 'alien attack' theory, was it not?  
  
PI: That's correct. Since I am known to be unaffected by most aliens and yet I can affect even Superwoman in close proximity and since my body's immune reaction to non-plant matter is both extreme and total, it meant I hadn't been infected with some hypothetical parasite, nor was I subject to alien influence. This I provided a unique test case. 

From the fact that I _was affected_ despite having one brain, half an ovary and two ventricles in common with a human woman, we could spin out that the root components of the virus were in fact, human.  
  
That was big.

HQ: The fact that Red was affected also got me to thinking. Whatever kicked her into top gear had to be _brain_ because like she said, only her sexy, sexy brain is left. The rest is flower power, baby.

Psychology had a rich vein of stupid sexual theories to draw from and from there, it was just figuring out which parts of Freud, Jung, Kinsey, and Marston were actually correct and which were trash.  
  
CS: Sexual Archetype Theory and Social Realignment Theory.  
  
HQ: Correct. 

That's what led me to talk to bonobo researchers. Bonobos are the closest species to us genetically, ninety-eight point seven percent. And yet their social groups are almost unbelievably different. Stray males are rarely attacked when they wander in. Sex is the bond. Matriarchal, led by a small group of dominant females. Bonobos greet each other with sex, they calm each other with sex, they resolve dominance disputes with sex. Females have specific positions they use to establish, reinforce dominance and so on. They present differently to female partners. They vocalize -- rather loudly, I learned -- to broadcast this. Bonobos have a clitoris that is three times the size, proportionally, of a human female and seemingly it serves to facilitate this behavior. They copulate in front of the group. Every two hours on average.

They're lesbian hippie communes. At the very least, they offered another point of reference in a genetically close species with which to compare this new human behavior and to our prior behavior.

Chimpanzees, for a point of reference, are patriarchal, violent, and male-dominated. Infanticide of non-dominant male offspring. The killing of intruders. Hoarding of food. Familiar stuff, frankly.

CS: We've been trying to warn you, we Amazons. Also, can I add that description just made me homesick... I think Amazons could be a proof of concept that acceptance of nudity, lack of personally held property, permissiveness and weekly lesbian orgies do in fact a civilization make.

PI: That's something to look forward to for non-Amazons, I think. [laughs] Once we had our respective theories, and once I made _someone_ eat breakfast and sleep for three whole hours, we were off to the conference.

| 

CS: Do you feel your theories were given proper reception?

HQ: Totally.

PI: Surprisingly, yes. Especially as ex-cons with colorful, well-known histories.

Our theories were the only ones that _assumed_ nothing going in. Most of the rest was quite shrill, trying to retroactively establish male domination over a group of nubile, available-at-will female partners as the ideal of pre-written history or conversely, claim that only extremely dominant, even violent female sexuality would satisfy either gender. Pre-existing biases.

HQ: We started with what we knew. Not much. Physically that it was latent in humans and largely neurological, for patients who had lost sex organs to injuries and for people like my Ivy, Cyborg, and others to be affected. That it wasn't parasitic or capable of generating new structures, merely reactivating or enlarging existing ones. It operated on existing pathways: menstrual cycle, androgen levels in both genders, sense of smell, body odor, sleep cycles, and so on. As it became clear that entirely new, stable patterns of behavior were involved, things really got interesting.

CS: I still think it's hilarious that a fanfic genre named this thing.

HQ: I think it's appropriate. Sex is mental and fantasy is a part of that. Where is fancy bread, in the heart or in the head?

PI: We proposed that the physical changes such as increased libido, increased awareness of the libido of others and matching of heat/heat and rut/rut or rut/heat cycles were the cause of a _gap_ in our behavior, not something external that was _enforcing_ the framework of the behavior. We had people in extreme distress who received not just gratification but genuine stabilization from sex and at first no one had a clue why. 

Someone realized that having a boyfriend who smelled this way did help, which we now know to be an alpha. Her boyfriend she broke up with the week before, didn't. Fluid-bonded couples fared better than couples usig the barrier method. Queer couples realized that oral sex didn't relive the issue but penetrative or genital-genital sex did.

People started talking to each other. An ER doc slips up there, a gynecologist notices something here...

HQ: As a species, humans are smarter than we look. Surprising but true.

To think that Janine and Red Wednesday were nine weeks before the first 'heat party' is insane to me. The deaths meant there was an obvious problem, enough people were aware it was ramping up in their bodies that they got creative about it. At that point, done deal. There's very little that large numbers of intelligent people who communicate with each other can't solve. 

Lawyers loaded up for the arrests. Club owners donated spaces. Internet anarchists broadcast dates and times and people went to the parties. 

The pattern we saw in Rome and New York those first three nights is what we have now.

Betas liked things to be chill and this made them keen to take up a partner that had been rejected, hold someone who was crying, so on. 

Omegas went in with reduced sexual selectiveness because of the pain but this lack of 'standards' was more than offset by alphas.

Alphas' sexual aggressiveness was rooted in a drive to _protect and calm_ the mates they claimed and mounted. It only looked like male posturing (or lady posturing) from the outside. It was the equal and opposite drive on the part of alphas to comfort omegas interlocking with the omegas willingness to partner with anybody satisfying and safe. This was pack bonding. Tribe-building. The sexual aspect masked that.

PI: Could not agree more. Since then it's been a matter of tuning, legislating, educating our children and forgiving each other. We're re-aligning ourselves to behave more like bonobos than we did before because our biology got kicked and it shifted. We're catching up.

CS: Well my other would be very cross if I didn't offer the floor. Any questions for me?"

PI: Just one, really. I know testing on the island isn't extensive and I know magic is involved in your people's history but why hasn't there been a single tested omega on your island, do you think? Cultural compensation? Loving submission allowing betas to play that role?

CS: Scientifically I would say that it is our physicality. That we were selected, by gods or genetics, to be warriors and peacemakers. Beta intuition is helpful and that's why we're eighty percent. Physically powerful, martially skilled alphas willing to go berserk on threats to their loved ones, _especially_ in a sexually open society, is the ultimate defense. Having been the one standing and having been on my knees before a woman, I think we Amazons are all really omegas at heart. We're just wearing alpha and beta identities as mental armor to enact our mission from -- and this should be a clue -- Aphrodite.

CS: Any closing remarks?

PI: Be good to each other. Please.

HQ: Have your mom call me. Down for anything. She can wear the armor...

PI: Can I add a 'give me a break' to my closing remarks? Is it too late?

\--interviewers note: It is possible to make Poison Ivy herself laugh. It's not possible to make Harley Quinn **_stop_** once she gets going.--  
  
---|---  
  
**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bonobo facts given are FACTS. They really are some horny, lezzie little monkeys.


	8. B!tch Magazine, October 2021 Issue - Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst.

**_In Memoriam - Victims of Red Wednesday_  
**

Compiled by Lena Luthor and Father Patrick O'Connell

**September 21st, 2020:  
  
**

**Alphas**

Thomas Clark and William Svenson, Provo Utah (starvation at conversion therapy camp)  
Josephine Chaud, Paris, France (rut seizure, her wife's flight was delayed)

**Omegas**

Janine Marian Davis, Provo Utah (heat seizure while locked in her bedroom)

  
  


**Sepembter 23rd, 2020:**

(Deaths occurred on "Red Wednesday", deaths from injuries received occurred later in hospitals)

**Alphas**

Pearce Orozco (car accident)

Darryl Bowes (assault by prior partner)

Elysha Love (suicide)

Lawrence Ross (assault by prior partner)

Philip Levine (assault by prior partner)

Faheem Decker (lynching)

Edgar Herman (assault post-intercourse)

Zayne Rice (assault by abusive partner)

Keyaan Puckett (assault by prior partner)

Aayat Busby (assault post-intercourse)

Kaitlin Finch (assault post-intercourse)

Tahmid Dickens (lynching)

Shanice Gentry (assault by prior partner)

Christos Salinas (cardiac arrest)

Nayan Walsh (assault, defending son)

Jocelyn Simmons (assault, defending son)

Two hundred and nineteen, New York City, men of color (lynched)

Ninety-one, New York City, women and queers of color (lynched)

Thirty-six, names withheld, Oslo (heat party organizers and victims of incel gunman)

_-your courage lit the fuse-_

_-your honesty broke the walls-_

_-in death, you are forgiven-_

_-in death you became lighthouses-_

Prime Minister Katja Madgsonn of Sweden

(she/her, alpha)

| 

**Sepembter 23rd, 2020:  
** (Deaths occurred on "RedWednesday", deaths from injuries received occurred later in hospitals)

**Betas**

Thirteen. Bodies not identified (New York, attempted to break up Central Park Lynching)

Ninety-two. Bodies not identified. (Moscow, residents of LGBT neighborhoods)

Two hundred and sixteen. Bodies not identified or names witheld (intervened in rape, worldwide)

Three thousand, four hundred and eight, worldwide. Bodies not identified or names witheld (attempted to protect LGBT neighbors)

_-you were righteous and gentle-_

_-we failed you-_

_-we did not honor your courage-_

_-rest in power-_  
  


Alexandra Ocasio Cortez, Senator, D-NY

(she/her, beta)

**Omegas**

Aneesha Ayers (rape)

Makenzie Blair (rape, sedative overdose)

Ruby-Leigh Casey (rape)

Felix Guthrie (cardiac arrest)

Emilee Zuniga (abdominal injuries) 

Madison Cardenas (drug overdose)

Shakir Neville (lynching)

Eden Ashton (suicide)

Hawwa Holder (lynching)

Husnain Carey (accidental fall, bridge)

Susannah Chester (suicide)

Five hundred and two women, Afghanistan (mass honor killing)

_-brothers too gentle-  
_ _-sisters too sweet-  
_ _-your kindness was not repaid-_  
 _-your gentle example will fill our hearts forever-_  
 _-your lovely shadows will shelter all the generations to come-_  
 _-my sister, your sisters, all our brothers-_

Lynn Davis-Martinez and her wife, Maria Martinez  
(they/them, omega and she/her, alpha)  
  
---|---  
  
**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just deciding that socialists are empathetic types and if betas are empathetic, AOC might be one. Woman is empathetic as fuck.


	9. Staking a Claim - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lillian uses unconventional tactics to escape. Male board members act like assholes. The grilling about the Venture explosion goes very differently.

**Lena Luthor**

There's a big, hairy mass behind her and hot wetness painting her neck just below her ear. Along with an inhuman snarl.

Lena's fuzzy. She hasn't been to the property in Wyoming in ages. Her safari isn't for another five months. The phrase 'it's a date' is lodged in her head like candy stuck in the vending machine: tasty but out of reach. They must have gone on a date to the zoo. Reasonable, given that dating anyone would be a form of madness for her. At that point, oohing over penguins is as logical as one of the five-star restaurants she owns.

So she must have fallen into the bear enclosure at the zoo.

Except that doesn't explain the hard-on digging into the small of her back. It doesn't explain that the skin brushing against her lower body isn't furry.

"Mmm." The voice is low, rough, and _bare._ It's not come hither. It's not flirty. It's raw. It's the spoken equivalent of a nude sent to her phone.

No matter what that person says, the message is the same. _Want to fuck me?_

"Lena."

"H-h-hello."

"Where am I?"

The laugh that bubbles behind her - clear and pure as a mountain spring -- is female, thank the Lord. Improbably big hands that smell like cocoa butter roll her like she were a baking pin. Now the board, slightly wet head of that erection is skating along her belly. It feels innocent, somehow, like it's just there. The owner isn't trying to make her pay attention to it and judging by the hands in her hair -- when did she wash her hair? -- this person isn't fixated on her cunt.

"Don't be scared pretty girl. Let me see those eyes."

"I'm scared. I don't remember much and your _big_ and I don't know how I got here."

"Oh, Lena. Poor dear. Your heat, honey. Your first heat. Memories will filter back. Don't be. You're so safe right now. Alex is making breakfast and Lucy is...fuck only knows with that one...flashing the neighbors most likely."

"Please."

"No."

"Please."

Lena submits. Her back hurts the more she keeps them closed.

She's met with eyes of darkest blue -- the ocean, but the frigid bottomless expanse of a trench -- and tanned skin and cheeks with a pillow print on them and sleep-fattened, bubble-gum pink lips the moment she does.

"There they are. Can you just resign? I've got savings. I can make us a cabin somewhere and I can just stare..."

A kiss to one cheek.

"At these eyes..."

A kiss to the other cheek.

"Forever..."

Lips pressed to hers. Waiting. Pleading for her to allow it. She would. She really would. The problem is she can feel a puddle on the sheets below her -- the tangle of cotton she wrapped herself in reeks of sex -- and the longer she stares into those eyes, the more the puddle grows. If she kisses her, it's going to lead to throwing her legs across those powerful thighs and riding that fat cock until it fills her or she has a heart attack. One or the other. 

"I need coffee. Badly."

"Wizard needs food badly!" the woman teases.

She's had quickies less fulfilling boring than being teased in _that voice_ while held so _close_ she could feel _that body_ and the words rumbling out from between the ribs like the roar of a hot rod engine.

"Get me some coffee, _nerd."_

"Mmm. Okay. But only because you give _unreal_ head and you fuck like a _rabid animal_ and I'm sorta in love with you."

_Did I really?_

Lena's tongue skates the roof of her mouth. Yes, indeed. Her throat is sore and the salty-spicy tang on the roof of her mouth and on her teeth speaks volumes. A flash of clarity -- no more than a few seconds -- of herself on her knees in the shower with the blonde. Massive and half-soft, slippery, come-slicked cock passing her lips and snaking easily past her mouth and into her throat, hands dancing on her neck. _'Taking it so well, pretty girl. So soft. That's it, all the way. You're amazing. Gonna take you to bed and suck your pussy dry.'._ Her name gasped and the blonde's head thrown back, spilling wet gold across the tiles and heavy, anchoring hands on her shoulders. Short, gentle thrusts.

She doesn't need memory to know the rest of the sex was amazing. She has aches and pains for that, front and back.

"Which reason is it?"

"Can't it be both?"

"That's three."

"Mmm, no. Anything to do with making love to you is one big, bright, soft experience."

_Making love. I have to get out of this bed and piece it together or I'm not sure I'll want to leave._

"Coffee. Now. Foreplay voice later. Maybe."

This woman's smile is just _light_. It's like when TV pastors say 'go into the light' and Lena is willing to risk her life to get it again.

\-----

Coffee helps.

She asks if she can get up and the answer scares her.

"'Course. Look around. Make yourself at home. Ask me anything."

_Make yourself at home. To a Luthor. Like it's nothing._

The apartment is bright. Fanciful paintings of some strange landscape and a gleaming, unusual city of silvery-blue towers lit by a dark red sunset scatter the walls. There's a dresser in the hallway with wedding photos on it. The blonde brick she woke up with and a leggy, well-endowed -- biceps of diamond -- redhead swooning into her arms. 

_Ex-wife. She's divorced and taking whoever will have her._

Probably ten curious, well-trained little kittens tumble out of a closet with a sliding door and a whole city's worth of cat towers and scatter about her feet. Stretching their claws into the carpet and batting her toes but with the claws held back. Mews and trills and shrieks and just _fur_ and even though Lena hadn't been a cat gay before, she's open to the idea. Two glossy, friendly and _too curious_ beagles meet her when she reaches the end of the hall, sniffing and slapping their furry tails into her knees and _oops!_ this one found a smell that reminded it of mom.

She drops her hands to cover herself so fast she forgets about the coffee in her hand. The dogs hadn't. One of them plunges their snout in and slurps the coffee so greedily it sounds like a shop vacuum cleaning up a spill. It then gives a relatively chaste lick to her thigh, near her knee and trundles off, tail high and swishing.

_Clever little things. They've pulled that move before, methinks._

"Comet," her bedmate grumbles. "Don't harass women. Streaky! It is your job to make your sister behave."

The beast falls on its haunches and whines.

"Okay, that's just unfair," Lena chortles.

"Right? Try marrying a woman who can pout twice that hard." 

She turns to the voice. The redhead she thought was an ex-wife is at the stovetop. The blonde's empty-headed gaze and lazy smile and the quartz-studded metal bracelet on her wrist matches one the blonde wears. So that nixes the 'ex' part of 'ex-wives' with extreme prejudice. She's flipping some sort of tofu-related, omelet adjacent concoction in a pan. There's olive oil to one side of the counter and a brown paper wrapped 'homemade plant sausages - venison style' bundle on the other. A golden-skinned Latina is poured into one of the seats at the breakfast counter. She's so curvy she's like a dollop of pumpkin pie filling.

"M'fucked. Totally fucked," she mewls into her orange juice. "You?"

"I'm...putting it back together."

The redhead slaps a plate of farm-style breakfast in front of her. Scrambled eggs. Bacon. Sausage. Biscuits. Just one sniff tells her is cruelty-free. The pamplhets in the employee lounge were not lying about an increased sense of smell. The cooks 'eat pussy not animals' shirt isn't hers, obviously, because it goes past her butt and there could be everything or nothing under it.

"Morning, hot stuff."

She kisses Lena's forehead like it's nothing.

"I need a moment," Lena blurts out. "No more being nice. Affection is...transactional. Always."

"I'm a Luthor. We're wicked. We're bad. We don't _feel_ and you should not be nice to me."

"That's Lillian talking," the blonde grumbles. "Not you. I spent a night laughing into your hair while you watched _101 Dalmations._ Evil women don't laugh at dog romance. And if it's transactional it's not affection."

Lena should have an acidic retort but the memory flashes back. Shared afghan. Skin on skin. Furnace of body heat circulating in the blanked. Warmth from the woman behind her. A hand around her middle and legs clasping her won so she just _knew_ it as impossible to fall off the couch or be hurt in any way. Popcorn in a big palm she would lean forward and slip onto her tongue. Her own laugher, _real_ laughter she barely recognizes and deep, bone-shaking laughs from the body behind her.

"Yeah, I have no comeback for that. Fuck Walt Disney, seriously."

The redhead laughs.

"Eat. My wife will be promising undying love if I don't get her out of the apartment and get _you_ to work, big-shot. Not that I mind. Kara is a bottomless well of happiness and cuddles and a girl can only drink so much. But some of us have _jobs,_ Kara. The people running these alien weapons around aren't taking a day off to heat buddy."

"Quit it with her hair!"

"No," Kara pouts. "Her Ph is perfect for this. Exactly right to cold-brew. I'm at eighty-nine brushes anyway."

_My what?_

"Oh for fucks sake, is that..."

The redhead bonks her forehead against a cabinet.

"Yeah. Collected it when she woke up sleep-humping my leg. Mint base. Baking soda to melt the ice. Hand stirred. Best conditioner in the universe. We must use all parts of the buffalo," Kara solemnly declares.

"They're really smart. Both of them. Here," the Latina suggests, putting Lena's hand on her own jet-black curls. "Feel. Smell. Bit of Alex juice is mixed into mine."

_That's...I've paid two hundred dollars to get that, just the treatment. That does smell like Alex and that'd be useful for an omega out on the town._

"I could help," Lena mumbles. "With the gun runners. Might distract me from the fact that _someone_ is brushing my _own juices into my hair_ and that's both _weird_ and whatever it's mixed with smells _nice_ but worshipping the whore's hair is a bit too _religious_ of a thing to do and I'm already going to have to give my confessor a raise. _FUCK!"_

Lena's upper body melts under powerful, deep-piercing figure-eights of pressure. Just thumbs. Both thumbs. She sags like an inflatable beach ball with the valve opened.

"Holy Mother of God. You are allowed to keep massaging my neck if you like. Alex, right?"

"Yeah."

"If you need a consultant, call my assistant. My brother made me memorize lots of alien weapons. Part of his master plan."

"His master plan foiled by an awesome genius of a sister."

"Lately I haven't felt very awesome," Lena admits. "The anniversary hurts. I was in charge of the stabilizing agent. There wasn't time for a placebo payload so I picked the virus that could wipe out Medusa and I thought people could enjoy it after the adjustment period. More sex is a good thing. I'd figured the virus would cause upheaval. Not...that. Those poor girls!"

Rather than taking the Earth-shattering news of the source of the virus as a reason to fetch her cuffs from her FBI windbreaker, the redhead hugs her from behind and _thank god_ for that shirt because she isn't ready for hard-bodied butches to pinball her around the house just yet.

"I suspected. Feel good to get it out?"

"Yeah," Lena admits. "First person I ever told."

"It's Monday, right?"

"It's give Lena back day," Kara grumbles. "I mean, yes. Monday."

Lena chuckles.

"I'm going to be short a company if I don't get to work and slap down some board members."

The golden-skinned trollop looks up.

"They alphas?"

"Three of them. One's a woman and she's been crushing on me for months. She doesn't worry me so much. She just _screams_ messy emotional bottom, you know?"

"Kara."

"Yeah, Ally?"

"Eyes on her. Just to be safe. She wafting out a cloud of _fuck yes_ right now I'm going to enjoy it in the apartment all week. Businessmen are entitled assholes."

\-----

Jess meets her in the parking garage. She had the driver bring the range rover so she would have space to change. The enticingly dapper fare she was offered by her 'heat buddies' -something she needs to Google--were just her thing: men's vests, slacks, jackets. The blonde -- Kara -- admitted she likes to present male most days but female when she's at home. Comfortable and safe. Her stuff was too massive and the redhead was too tall and the Latina -- Lucy Lane which was a realization to pack away for later unboxing -- only brought her Army dress uniform, a briefcase with her papers for her current case, protein bars and no fewer than _six_ pairs of panties in her handbag. 

"Morning Miss Luthor," Jess trills.

"Wipe that smirk off," Lena grumbles.

"What, they weren't good?"

"I don't _remember_ Sunday. I wasn't a prisoner but a toothbrush run wasn't a priority. If I don't get my meds in it'll be mortal combat for control of the company while I'm fucking dissociating."

"That good, wow. Want me to have a pre-nup drawn up?" she jokes.

"Yes. Maybe. No. Don't make me think about that."

Jess nods, her cool, easy pheromones washing over Lena's newfound senses like a balm. Good, pure, _saintly_ Jess has Lena's morning prescription and a bottle of water discrettly hidden in her own purse."

"Thanks."

"I will want details and Sam is going to go full college roommate on you if she doesn't get them."

"One year," Lena grumbles, shucking the sweatpants and taking the slacks Jess is offering over her back. "Freshman year and she wants every detail of my sex life."

"Single mom. Probably living vicariously."

Lena dons her armor -- today, that's all it is -- and tugs her blazer so it hangs straight.

"Good?" she asks Jess.

"Look like a billion bucks, boss. Shall we?"

\-----

The boardroom is buzzing with murmurs and the instant she opens the doors, three heads track her like wolves tracking a sheep.

Thompson.

Williamson.

Sam Arias.

Sam just smiles but Thompson brushes her hand when he pushes bottled water towards her and Williamson pushes out a choking, thick cloud that is all alpha. What Kara's enveloping and misty scent would smell like if she bathed in rotten eggs for two weeks. She's aware he's interested but she's somehow, curiously, aware that he's not for her. Not just that he's male, either. Not for her.

She's going to have to quiz Jess' sister or...

_Holy shit. Cat Grant. Perfect mentor for this._

"Well, Lena. You've been hiding something," Williamson teases. "Damn shame. Mmm, nice and ripe."

"Omega or not, I will skullfuck you with my office paperweight and sue you for everything down to the mustard in your fridge if you _ever_ use that tone of voice or speak to me like that me again."

Sam blushes and Lena sees her shiver and then fidget. Probably crossing her legs. The whiff of hot metal, almonds and cedar smoke must be Sam and it's new and _not_ unwanted in the cloud of alpha filling the rest of the room.

_Note to self._

Lena eschews her usual head of the table seat and sits in the empty one near Sam.

"I need to go over Q2 projections later," she says, loud enough for it to be an excuse. The smoky tones in Sam's scent spike and Lena's throat isn't so tight now. Her palms aren't sweating. She feels safer. Somehow she knows how to return the favor with a wave of fruity-smelling gratitude. Easy as saying 'thank you' out loud would have been.

"Now that you're done being unprofessional about a medical condition I discovered _yesterday,_ let's talk about why you tried to enact a succession plan when I hadn't been missing three hours before I contacted Jess, shall we?"

"Nothing? From any of you?"

"Fair enough. Jess, let the minutes show no explanation was offered for violation of my contract. Line 83, Section II."

"Thompson. Did you call the SEC about those filing irregularities?"

He goes white.

"Meeting creep on friday," he admits. "They were closed by that point."

"Get a move on. I don't care if your stiffy is bumping the table right now. You're a grown man. Deal. You run the legal team. You keep us in compliance. Go."

The betas at the table comprise most of her female compatriots. They hide their amusement badly and Lena is glad of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kara has some Science Guild wackiness she uses to make bases for shampoo/soap/conditioner/lotion that are base and the scent oils are suspended in soda. She 'triggers' them with the Ph of the slight acid in vaginal secretions. Becvause that is the sort of shit Kara would do in a universe where sending someone home with your scent is like buying flowers.


	10. Staking a Claim - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lillian uses unconventional tactics to escape. Male board members act like assholes. The grilling about the Venture explosion goes very differently.

**Kara Zor-El Danvers | 9:02 AM**

Something is up today. She's used to getting a few secret glances -- this vest is Alex's favorite on date night for a reason -- but this is becoming tiresome.

"Cat?"

Cat sort of oozes out of her chair onto her knees. Shaking hands with $10,000 manicures go for Kara's belt.

"No, no, up you go. Jesus."

Once plopped in her chair and told to _stay!_ Cat does but a blunt command in Kara's best alpha voice has her breathing hard and Kara just decides to schedule the cleaning of the cushion now while she can smell the slick.

Cat lifts her head, all smiles and glassy eyes and that is weird enough to make Kara want to run screaming.

"You said you had some notices you need to send? Something about the Tribune?"

Cat smiles.

"Kelly."

"Kelly in HR?"

Cat shakes her head.

"She's a beta," she purrs. "Go see Kelly in art. Pert little ass. Killer tits. Shove her laptop off an-"

"Got it!" Kara all but shrieks.

The advantage to being your boss' friend is you have her wife's private number. Kara dials it, frantically, while trying to find a corner of the bullpen that's under an air intake for the HVAC or something.

"Yeah," Siobahn rasps.

_Alex really gave it to her Friday._

"Siobahn, it's Kara. Cat's ass-"

"I remember. Cat's butch assistant who makes me feel like I just had a hot bath whenever you talk. Who had to run but sent her butch wife over to break me in half when I was under it Friday. You're lucky I'm married."

"Er, right. Listen. Something is up around here. Someone spiked the punch or maybe my phero-blockers are outta wack but Cat is fully bluescreened right now. Horny as hell and not able to finish the email she wanted to dictate. She is not in a safe space mentally and I can't help her because ninety percent odds are I'm the problem. Can you pick her up?"

Siobahn talks to someone at her end.

"I think there might be some sort of _dreadful_ station at school involving it not being a school day and ice cream and Carter might need both his moms. Give me..."

_Visualize the watch. Rolex? No. Apple Watch. Pink gold case. Cat had me do the engraving. Do not visualize Sandy licking her fucking lips at you or Winn using his inhaler rather than sniffing. Bad Kara!_

"Thirty minutes."

"Oh, thank god. Maybe have a Plan B for carter. If she diverts to you with this level of arousal..."

"Oh," Siobahn purrs.

_That's how you get $99/minute phone sex money..._

"How _terrible."_

Siobahn's pouring it on, full-blast omega purr and Kara's spinning her wheel from it. Her IQ points are plummeting and popping this semi right now isn't exactly a _great idea_ with her current company. She's gotten good at swapping fantasy partners so rather than her boss' wife her mind flits to green eyes staring up at her while red lips gradually swallow her cock.

"Yeah...your funeral. Listen, Cat's my friend. You too, I'd like to think. I'm going to keep her in her office and then I'm going to go throw myself off the roof in embarrassment as soon as you get her to safety."

Then it hits.

Cat's only safe if Kara blocks the door to her office -- that's part of her job -- but that puts Kara in ground zero in what's looking more and more like the porn parody of a zombie movie.

She texts Alex. Surely her day is going better.

My Sunshine  
  
what's good babe  
pretty decent today. got me in the lab, not looking down the sights. xentorian liver. you know how it is.  
just put back at least one so they can regrow the others.  
  
corpse, I'm afraid but not a murder. I'll take it  
ah. did you smell anything different about me today?  
  
i mean, you smell nice but I knew that  
thought you smelled nice before this whole thing blew up  
before I leveled up in lesbian passive perception checks  
ooh, D&D joke. Winn would be proud. thing is, i am having A DAY OF IT and Cat is trying to well, kittenlick my hand whenever I get close  
  
i locked her in her office but that means I'm locked out with forty omegas on this floor alone, half of them females and this one is really cute and she is SNEAKY  
  
poor baby...  
this isn't 'center of attention' Ally. this is 'mall full of zombies' I'm talking about  
  
shit  
can confirm  
  
can you check the medkit I sent you  
just gonna bat my eyelashes here, duck under this one...  
  
got it. what do I need to do?  
  
Lamdba scent profile monitor in there. give it a whiff of you, wifey  
it says NaN, for alpha phero-per-million  
  
not-a-number. that's impossible. like, mathematically. there's no way you have zero but zero is still a number.  
kara. how many digits does it have?  
shit. four  
  
i think it's entirely possible that my supersexy alien wife can put out past the 500-6400 normal range for humans...  
especially if she, oh, I don't know, triggered a tasty sip of Bailey's and Creme omega who had gone a full year without symptoms. that sort of thing feedback loops and both partners new median phero levels soar. for life  
so I broke the meter, is what you're saying  
for life? what the fuck does that mean? this is not something that works 'for life' unless you want to move to Antarctica, babe  
  
eh. software bug. better tell your new heat buddy to fix the firmware. we'll figure it out, Kara. always do. Ruts of Steel, babe fuck u  
sounds like lunch to me. free at 1130 hours. kisses  
kisses

Rao must not like his followers consorting with Irish women because at this point in the trainwreck that is her morning Snapper Carr rocks up with a draft article in hand. Hard copy, of course.

"She in there," he grumbles.

Snapper Carr smells like a good Jewish girl (and childhood sweetheart's) kiss before work, hot, soft _challah_ bread and on-the-nose omega tint that has Kara blinking her eyes.

_He's reacting but he's not showing it. How in the fuck is he keeping it together?_

"She's triggered right now."

"Scent triggered or Twitter triggered?"

"Scent, I'm afraid. You and I have both been the receiving end of her on Twitter. She can take care of herself. My fault. I think it's an allergic reaction I'm having to my blockers. Overproduction."

"Good she has a door guard, then. I'll just leave this with you. SHOO, YOU VULTURES!"

Snapper's shout actually drives three of the nearest women back.

"What in the name of..."

Snapper chuckles.

"Good luck with the barbarians, Ponytail."

"Yeah, uh, thanks."

Kara's angling for a bump to being a reporter in January. That ice-cold operator is clearly the man to learn from.

To distract herself from thoughts of Ally, Lena or the Russian janitor lady who is struggling to get her boobs out, Kara picks up the article.

_**Vigilante Number One Priority, Says NCPD**  
_

One of the camera traps got her. Clear as day. There she is, helping Chrissy to her feet. Stanford hoodie thrown back when she tossed the groper into the nearest dangerously hard object. Her estimated height, minus two inches but still above the norm at six-three. Weight, age, clothing last seen -- which is her normal patrol stuff -- everything they need to get a pile of anonymous tips.

"Fuck," Kara snarls.

"No, not you!" she adds in a blind panic when several of her admirers took that as a command, not a swear word.

She actually has to push Tess from art down as she clicks her tongue piercing promisingly against the inside of her teeth like a prisoner rubbing their cup on the bars. Quinn is lifting her shirt out of her belt and sweetly tasting the panic-sweat off Kara'a spine. Her somehow-very-formal suspenders are shucked off and she either didn't do a good job with her bindings today or her nipples have superpowers.

_Fuck._

It's an abuse of power, of a sort but Kara suspects this is going to be the day for that. She uses her delegated password for Cat's account to flick through the employee profiles that go with the faces.

_Omega, omega, omega, beta? the fuck?, omega, omega, beta? again? come on!, alpha with a warning about BDSM attire in the workplace, six more omegas. In the pack circling me. None of them with marked spouses and only one with a building-cleared heat buddy...visitor L69...which had to have involved bribing Pam in HR._

She's not sure if ti's a relief that no spouses are going to be offended no matter what happens or if it's a temptation from Rao himself.

"Winn?"

"Erm."

"Winn!"

"Right. Sorry. God, it'd be easier right now if I wasn't bi. Or if James was into dudes."

"Not intentional, promise."

"I hear you buddy. Omegas are the queens of we don't mean it."

"Right. Winn...you know about this vigilante?"

"MIght've."

He tries to play it cool but he just tapped his Batwoman bobblehead velcroed to his monitor.

"How would you like to design a proper uniform for her?"

"I mean why would sh-"

Winn locks onto her and the idea snaps him out of it.

"You're...her," he sighs, like knowing this completed his concept of the universe.

"I'm her. I'm me. My apartment, eight tonight. Don't be late. Or...shocked. Alex and me have a new heat buddy and she is a _lot of extra_ in a small package."


	11. Staking a Claim - Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lillian uses unconventional tactics to escape. Male board members act like assholes. The grilling about the Venture explosion goes very differently.

**Kara Zor-El Danvers | 12:08PM**

Kara embraces what Batman calls "the hero's code" for a reason. She could take human life, conceptually speaking. Easy as breathing as effort goes. She could scrub the world of life almost instantly. Leaving behind only Alex, Lucy, Lena, herself, and she supposes, a stock of partners for breeding. So that Lena's children always have partners far enough away genetically. Worse, she could do it without suffering. No humans would know they'd been injured before they were dead. The tougher aliens would feel discomfort, but with the right blow, no pain.

It would just _stop_ and the world would be _different_. No screams, no pleading, no ghastly mass graves or sadistic camps. Families in their beds. Safe. Asleep. Whatever comes next for them and a layer of ash and a nest for her mates—leaving a core of human life on an empty, gradually-healing planet with space to spare and increased wildlife and dropping carbon dioxide.

Kara wrote it down once, what she could do at the worst with the full range of her powers. Cuddling. Safe. Held. Alex was helping her process her desire to save people and be less afraid of her powers. Alex took the pad, gave her a sad smile, took a red sharpie and started crossing things off. 

"Not in you," she said, about torturing homophobes.

"Never. Not before the heat death of the universe." So too was drowning kittens crossed off.

Six pages of self-shaming and puddles of red ink later, they were left with 'Alex no matter the cost' and 'ensure the survival of the human race' and technically, that awful thought experiment meets both. She made Alex leave it.

She never _considered it_ before the Monday of Mondays, the Destroyer of Sanity itself. A world scoured of all this complicated _politicking_ and complaining and judging with nothing to do but fuck and laugh and feed her mates and teach long-dead sciences would be much simpler. It wouldn't make her have her first-ever stress headache.

A fucking Monday what finally cracks her.

Specfically, three nasty pieces of bad news.

Claire emailed her. She wants 'backup' interviewing Lena Luthor at three as if Lena is anything be the softest, most tender, _least_ dangerous Earth creature to ever breathe.

James texts her questions about the sex help column which reminds her it exists and that reminds her that she has to remind Lena, who, thankfully, only specifically asked about fluid bonded partners. The apology won't count as an apology. Shouldn't. She could eat Lena out for days. Longer if Lena would let her put food on her soft white belly so Kara could just drag her tongue up and take a bite. Keep her strength up.

The monthly bomb-the-aliens-even-though-it's-not-their-fault attack comes. A suicide vest on a hostage, triggered when a Coluan drove by. He didn't stop. Just drove the fuck by. 

No big. She'd learned the radio burst the terrorists use by heart. Faster than light means faster than radio, so she beat it to the punch. The bomb is easy. Human tech, after all. Slice, slice, slice with the heat vision and a bit of superspeed friction and static electricity to keep current in the fail-deadly wire. 

This is how Kara finds herself at an all-omega sorority's charity car wash with a swooning, dark-skinned _giantess_ in her arms and her own clothes soaked from a pipe she ruptured to get the girl's hands-free in time to work on the bomb straps. Using one hand to keep the girls sparkly white top on against her obvious wishes and utterly fucking unable to keep the soaked, probably-dissolved bottom half of the swimsuit from sliding to the asphalt with what is -- to her ears -- a deafening splash of sticky fabric.

The other omegas are meekly kneeling. Whining. Putting their suits back on with trembling fingers because the _alpha_ snarled at them, loudly, and made them. Deferring to the larger specimen's right to first mating and deferring to the most rattled female receiving comfort first. Unless they agreed to prank Kara over truth or dare, this is instinctive. Kara did _not need to know_ that there was such a response lingering in human women's brains. She also didn't need to know that they made bikinis like these, so clearly expensive that she can see everything they offer and have clear proof these are _rich girls_ with good educations or at least wealthy families.

Kara's alpha preens. 

_So many healthy, smart, well-fed babies..._ The Nation of Argo arisen on Earth in nine to eleven months, depending on whose eggs pop into the pinball machine and when.

She hears more than feels the explosive vest dropping, defused, to the pavement. The bomb squad is quick and, thankfully, doesn't laugh at her. Alex accepted her excuse for lunch with one of her own. Something about a tac-team raid on the bomb makers.

A SWAT team member does take the chance to poke. A sparky, toned brunette with blue-frosted tips on her spiky pixie cut with enough alpha coming off her to suggest she could clean Kara's clock and knock up the entire sorority.

"My wife is gonna love this. The new meta vigilante wet T-Shirting it with a nice _dark chocolate sponge cake_ and trying to act all noble."

"M'being a gentlewoman. Politely. So, respectfully, fuck off. Officer Vasquez."

"Looks like she wants you to _polite_ her _gently_ from behind until you knock teeth out. And it looks like you _could_. Spray like this means it's a _wet pants_ contest too, stud. Where the hell can I buy that strap? Gentlewomen do what the lady asks."

"Fuck," Kara grumbles. "I am not texting my wife about this one. Not with the day she's probably had."

"Alpha?"

"My wife? Yeah. That obvious?"

"Scent tells, lady. Scent tells. That one's not yours and it sure as fuck isn't hers. This one? So you do have a system. Maybe, just barely enough alpha to knock that out of her, you're _still_ holding out on that poor creature? You're a laugh riot, Supernun."

"You saved my life," the omega purrs. 

Her voice is liquid, smooth, tasty. Smoky and dark as her skin. It's melted chocolate. It's tiramisu. It's a Kahula mixer with Jack Daniels and classic coke. The cane sugar kind in green bottles. Gold-brown bottles flecked with green just like the big, pleading eyes that speak of deserts and ancient myth. Served with a chaser of I will _drop out of college_ and _have babies for you_ if you _mount me right the fuck now before I boil my insides_ and Kara's sympathy for the pain is wrestling her desire to take the omega right here in a spray of frigid, painfully pressured water.

Supersenses are a curse. It's not just seeing through things. It's cell phone towers bathed in waves of radio. It's the magnets on the fridge shimmering with pride as they pin Alex's grocery list to the steel. It's cosmic rays hitting Alex's skin on the rooftop of their building like harmless little raindrops of beta radiation. It's heat vision, not just like a cutting laser. Heat vision like a predator. Like a rattlesnake seeking the infrared shadow of a warm-blooded body. She can see where the girls skin is hottest. Brighter. Whiter. Like an angel's halo in a movie.

This girl just went from shivering to what she knows to be a dangerous level of heat-fever. In minutes. Unless someone here has heat-break drugs that could tranq an elephant or this girl's got two heat-buddies who live less than three minutes away? There is a genuine problem.

"I'm Tiffany."

"Ah. Good."

"Kara," she replies, patting her chest. It probably looked racist as hell to an onlooker but something just knew that she and Tiffany were both operating on a more primitive level right now.

"Kara," Tiffany replies, slowly wrapping her tongue around a perfectly easy to pronounce name like it took care and planning.

Tiffany pulls her damp dreads off the long column of her throat.

"Here," she demands. "Doesn't have to mean anything."

Kara's read about non-pair-bond bites but it feels like wishful thinking on the part of horny men. 

She gets whispers of Alex's every mood. There's an icy, still numbness in her mark. Someone just pulled a gun on Alex. Her mark flares triumphant with a wash of calming relief. Alex shot them or disarmed them. Hot, uneasy shivers run through her mark. Aching, itching shame. She shot them. Killed them. Switched from soldier to doctor but the wound was too much.

Alex will need to be held tonight. A pint of Make Like a Tree and Mint Leaf vegan from Ben & Jerry's needs to be in the freezer for Alex. Post-kill soothing and something to cry into as she tips sideways on the couch so she doesn't have to leave the embrace to cry herself to sleep. Stack kittens on her until she can sleep deeply.

Kara knows her beloved is alive, unharmed, and needing comfort. How could you know all that about a person and have it just be sex?

"Never had someone so big. Have to practice. This comes off, right?"

Tiffany drags on her cock with the heel of her hand, experimentally, curiously, through her slacks.

"Don't," Kara squeaks.

"I'm better with pussy. All clits fit in my mouth. _Clits are no challenge,"_ she purrs.

There it is. Tiffany just named the puppy. Kara has to keep it. Alphas and omegas _challenge_ each other and that's what strengthens the family, the species, the civilization. Omegas in heat offer up their bodies, their hearts, their safety, all to ask if they're good enough. If the alpha can be _strong_ enough to mount them and virile and rough enough to crack the maddening fog coating their brain and smash the clogs tangling their guts and good enough _shield_ them from the cruel word and less gentle alphas. Alphas growl and snap and _push_ to ensure better behavior and bring the whole-ass human being back to the surface. Coax the soul up back into the pretty, pleading eyes.

Her big, fancy, sentient brain can't help come up with a 'no' because the big three are answered. 

Kara could, in fact, fuck this girl. She could bring her pleasure. She could keep her safe. She could provide food, shelter, safety for any number of offspring by way of her job, bank robbery, nudist farming. Her alpha only cares for the yes or no, not the details.

"You'd let me practice, right, big girl?"

The phrase 'big girl' does things to her. Rao forgive her, but it does.

"It's racially insensitive. A white woman and a black woman with muddy consent," Kara replies.

 _Really? A million years of genetic engineering, surgically enhanced, in-vitro perfected intellect, and every damn thing your ancestors could do for you and that's the best you can do? Real smart,_ she scolds herself

The mental image her therapist taught Kara to use to understand and commune with her alpha -- a border collie -- lopes into the mind's eye, sits on her haunches, and yawns. Everybody's a critic.

Tiffany laughs. Maybe it's perfect and maybe her teeth flash like a lightning storm between her dark lips. Maybe the inky, plum fruit shade of her throat is a black hole. Nothing escapes but laughter.

" _Mon amor_ , I'm from Kenya. I came here on daddy's money through LAX, not a slave ship. I'm of age, in every sense. You can take me out for a drink if you want. Degree once the spring grades are uploaded. All grown up. So better excuse please, or else cock in my mouth please."

Kara is saved, momentarily, by her cell phone.

"Could you, ah, hand me that?" she asks Tiffany.

"Can I keep my hand in your pocket?" Tiffany shoots back.

"Back pocket _only_. Knock yourself out."

"No," Tiffany chortles. "That's _your job_ , big strong alpha."

There really aren't enough swear words in kryptohavli, Kara decides.

* * *

> "Hi."
> 
> "Hello," Lena breathes.
> 
> Her voice is damp, high, strained. A woman without a full breath anywhere in her.
> 
> "Lena," Kara grunts. Classy as she can be with Tiffany trying to crack her fake nails on Kara's glutes.
> 
> _Maybe so she can finger Lena?_
> 
> Kara tenses and just like that, the nails break off one by one. Tiffany purrs.
> 
> _I walked right into that trap._
> 
> "I have a problem, Kara. I seem to be _surrounded_ by alphas who aren't good enough."
> 
> Kara is glad she didn't rip right through the khaki and slap Tiffany in the face. There was one such incident when the klixen-bearing pod first landed, unbidden, in Eliza's back yard one night.
> 
> "Tell me more, Lee. I'll keep you safe, you know that."
> 
> There's the click of a door lock turning.
> 
> "Mmm? Lee? What?"
> 
> Voice alone doesn't prove anything -- a horny enough omega drops almost to the tenor range -- but that sounds like an alpha. Female alpha.
> 
> "I had to threaten violence to dial one board member back to 'asshole' rather than 'pervert' and I probably ruined a friendship with the other alpha on the board. I also seem to also have rut-triggered my college roommate, Sam, a female alpha. She's my only friend from back in Metropolis."
> 
> Heat vision or tears. Kara has to pick. Skies are clear so she leans back. Heat vision of failure it is. Tiffany and her sisters ooh and ahh and Tiffany seems to think her groping is the cause so she doubles, more like triples down.
> 
> "Oh. You should probably go to her, then. She knows you better."
> 
> " _Kara_." Lena's voice is crisp. Stiff. Unhappy.
> 
> _Is this what omegas feel? This stab in the back and it hurts to not obey? Rao, I'm an asshole._
> 
> "I need someone at work. I'm not mad. You're good to me."
> 
> _Oh. This is that rush that 'good girl' gives Omegas. I can forgive myself now._
> 
> "Not like I can keep a super leashed to my desk with a water dish like a rottweiler. Sam's a dear friend. Before Friday, I would have said "wife goals" and there's an appeal, alpha mine. Can't lie to you. She's tall and fit and she can jostle men back if need be. I'm _asking_ for your _permission,_ my alpha because it's not bad yet and Sam is smart and brave. She coiuld handle it. Badly, perhaps because she's stammering adorbaly about borrowing my laptop in the bathroom."
> 
> "Omega videos on Pornhub are disgusting, Lena. Took me a week to find a playlist that I could stand to watch."
> 
> A murmur of assent from the car-wash fan club. 
> 
> "Hmm," Lena coos. "Her daughter _is_ adorable. Sharp as a tack. Might need a supermom to keep her in line, though. Should I give her the real thing, then? Alpha? My alpha?"
> 
> "You may."
> 
> "Would _you_ break a rule today, pretty please? I can be _such a bad girl,_ really. I mean, I'm a mess. Family history of mental illness, drink a bit too much. A white knight might not _want me,"_ Lena huffs.
> 
> The sounds of papers rustling and slick, sliding skin mix at Lena's end of the line. She's on speakerphone, probably held at her lap so Kara can hear the wetness.
> 
> "Lena, if you don't quit insulting yourself," Kara snarls. "I am going to break an airspeed record coming through your office window, grab you and straighten you out."
> 
> The moan is throaty, filthy, long and unmistakable. Kara heard it last night. Lena has an orgasm for every day of the week. That's teh long, lung-draining moan of relief she gives at the end, during the last, highest, dizziest, peak and well into the downward slope.
> 
> "Mmm. Thank you," Lena replies, her voice low and damp. The tone that of a woman with a mouth that's sloppy, messy and worn out.
> 
> "There. I talked you off. Go make your friend happy. I'll meet her later."
> 
> "Mmm," Lena hums. "You did. I've been watching CatCo 6 about these awful bombings. Who is that _luscious_ omega you're trying to keep fro-" Lena's tinkling laughter is Rao's forgiveness for being to rough with that armed robbery suspect on her morning jog. Has to be.
> 
> "Oh, my..."
> 
> Kara removes Tiffany's hand and tugs her zipper back up.
> 
> "Tiffany, quit. _Hold. Still. Good girl_. Wait."
> 
> "Is your scent _super_ too?"
> 
> "Seems so. She's obeying now but she'll punch right through the desire to obey and flip back to horny and grabbing soon. New thing since I triggered you. Starting to worry about that."
> 
> "Well, I may have had to have Jess lock down the floor after the catering guy got a bit wild. Might be both of us. I must say, it would be a disservice to my newly-chosen Omega sisterhood. I insist...as long as she knows which omega is your number one bitch, Kara. I do like _every flavor of pussy_ after all."
> 
> Kara is doomed.
> 
> She snaps a photo and prays to every god any species ever worshipped that Alex's phone isn't in her boss' desk for post-raid paperwork.

* * *

My Sunshine  
  
Alex, help. I have been zipping around defusing bombs and one was a suicide vest. Now I have to defuse well, this. [attachment.jpg]  
  
I see.  
Alex.  
  
... Ally?  
...  
...  
...  
My love, please. I would NEVER do something that hurt you. Please know that.  
  
I do know that. Like I said, Kara. "I do."  
That's quite a handful. Two handfuls each, looks like. See if she has the FlashCard app on her phone. Full panel STD testing and sexual history log.  
Hang on. Sort of crab walking back to her purse...  
  
Oh god, I just turned on CC6 to watch this. That's adorkable. And you're being so brave. Marry me.  
Bit late for that, Alex.  
  
I know, glad of it. Found it? Tap it to your phone.  
Green. Every checkmark is green. Last heat was...fuck. How can she be burning up like this after three days?  
  
Well, that's a sign we should probably get you into an enclosed, access-controlled space. Go home before I have to have someone chase you down and put a Sexy Hazmat costume on you. And despite the temperature, she isn't in much danger until it's been six hours. Pain is quick. Damage is slow.  
Green light. Get her alone soon. I need more pics. Hank is going to need a fuck-ton of paperwork and that's both boring and mood-killing. Had to...you probably already know.  
Yeah, babe. Sorry.  
  
He had an Argonian Field Inhibitor to the head of a Green Martian two-year-old, Kara. It was the only thing to do. Didn't have time to consider a chest shot because I needed his brain gone so it wouldn't be able to hold the gun.  
Still. Could have left this gut-churn back in Mecca, Berlin and Kasningrad. Hadn't missed it.  
Well, the whole damn sorority is just waiting their turn and the SWAT lady is mad I haven't so no one's going to think it's weird. There's a Starbucks over there...hang on.  
  
Vasquez? The quick response team leader? She's a pussycat. Just likes to act tough when she's got a gun. We go to the cop bar together and I pour her silver-fox alpha wife into the taxi because Vasquez isn't *that* buff. You really should come out when you're not an international incident.  
[attachment1.jpg] [attachment2.jpg] [attachment3.jpg] [attachment4.jpg] [attachment5.jpg]  
  
She also said she's not allergic to my cats. I didn't ask. She was pretty busy sniffing. Says she's sure.  
  
Bring her to me! EVIL LAUGH!  
You are so weird, babe. Kisses.  
  
Kisses.

* * *

"Tiffany?"

"Yeah?"

It's more breath than speech at this point. The Starbucks guy nervously fiddles with his earring and jerks his head frantically at the back door. There's leniency on brief slip-ups but the idea is to get someone out of public view to finishing fucking them and then get home to actually dig in once the edge is off.

Uber, Lyft and Postmates must have made a killing on this whole thing meaning people need to get home now and yes, it is, in fact, impossible to go grocery shopping and it's not just some avacado-toast scapegoat thing for newspaper columnists anymore. Wolf Blitzer trying to give an oral presentation to a female co-anchor thirty years his junior when she rutted on-camera in the first months was one of the tipping points in defusing the 'crazy kids' argument.

Kara hopes that lady writes a memoir.

Besides the fact that her lower half is wearing Kara's blazer from work, Tiffany's noodle limbs and flashbulb bright scent of ginger and honey is broadcasting just how little she cares. It's like a tornado siren back in Kansas.

"Tiffany, we're going to go see someone who can help you, all right?"

"Is it you?"

"It's my omega, okay, my primary. She's important."

"I like her."

"You don't know her."

"She likes you?"

"Yes. She's ah, a brilliant woman."

"Then I like her."

"Right, uh."

Kara shoulder checks an alpha who was blocking the door -- frat boy, popped collar, body spray and all -- who looks at Tiffany a bit like he's seen it before.

"Tiff, what the fuck? That's mine," he snarls.

"That's _no one's_ but hers and who she gives it to."

"Oh yeah? What's her last name? Don't just cut in line, you filthy dy-"

She gives him a right hook. She's less restrained than she should be, but he's alive, conscious, and the spatter of blood on the pumpkin spice latte sign is pleasing. Her omega is warm and soft and healthy, and perfect. Her omega is not to be insulted or made to feel less.

"Okoro. My last name is Okoro."

"Pretty name."

Tiffany hums happily, and steps on her ex's junk as Kara leads her out into the sunshine.

"Hold on."

They're halfway to L-Corp and Lena's office balcony when a flutter of white dropping into the fall breeze reminds Kara how stupid she was to think a bikini would hold up in flight.


	12. Staking a Claim - Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lillian uses unconventional tactics to escape. Male board members act like assholes. The grilling about the Venture explosion goes very differently.

**Lena Luthor | 1:06PM**

"What the fuck do you mean escaped?" Lena snarls into her desk phone.

"Ma'am, we lost _four guards_ this morning. A little sympathy, please."

"Sympathy?" Lena scoffs. "You think Lillian will show sympathy to three million alien _children_ on this planet if she didn't to armed guards?"

Lena pinches her nose.

"How?"

"There was a higher-than-usual number of alphas on her cell block rotation. She had been hiding her heat-leveling drugs under the pillow until she had a toxically powerful amount. It swamped the entire wing. The riot still isn't suppressed."

"So basically, you don't bother counting pills in a prison for high-escape-risk criminals, many of whom are mentally ill. You created a situation where your guards -- paid four times what public prison guards are paid -- thought with their dicks. Terrific. Consider your company liquidated. Clean out your desk."

Lena slams the receiver down.

Kara's massive hands land on her shoulders.

"Lee."

"Don't," Lena sniffs.

"Where was the prison located?"

That little rumble in Kara's voice opens her up. The tears are pouring down her face now.

"I suppose I should be _impressed,_ really. Lillian never did anything that made her uncomfortable. That was what the staff were for. I'm sure sucking cock so she could get a gun wasn't pleasant for her."

"Lee. Where?"

"Coast of Alaska. Montauk Island."

"Thank you. _Good girl._ "

With a rush of air and a series of sonic booms, Kara is gone. Tiffany takes her place. Naked, dripping with sweat, and technically a sexual competitor, yet her presence is serene. Calming.

Lena's phone rings.

* * *

> "You need to contact my attorney."
> 
> "Lee."
> 
> "I invoke my right to remai-"
> 
> "Lee!"
> 
> There's a knocking on the glass. 
> 
> "I love you."

* * *

There's Kara, with one hand on her phone and another closed around the throat of a gradually-choking, soaking wet Lillian Luthor. The shards of twisted steel that must have been a gun are embedded in Lillian's bloody hand.

Kara is bleeding.

The blood is unreal. Crimson, shining from within. As it passes into the air, it loses the bioluminescence. The burn around the wound is absorbing into her skin, creating a nasty red infection that snakes into her veins. Like a poisoned grit was spreading from the wound. Some of it red, some pink.

"Only so much coastline for a woman on foot in a thunderstorm," Kara huffs. "Not sure where she had that homemade kryptonite bullet hidden since she was strip-searched every night so... Ew. I probably _could_ get sepsis if it is a high enough dose."

"Where do you want her?"

"Oh," Lillian crows. " _Now_ we see the false god at wor-"

"Shut up, mother. You need to be far more worried about _me_ right now."

Lena nods at her purse. She's carried a customized Glock since the day Mercy escorted her to MIT and her mother damn well knows who taught her to use it. Lillian's eyes widen, just a tick, before she masks her response.

Kara's grunt of pain pulls Lena back to complex things. To the choices she hasn't already made her peace with.

"Kara, you're hu-"

"I am _protecting_ my _loved_ ones. I'll manage. Where?"

"Floor. Tiffany, why don't you go clean Kara up?"

Kara doesn't bother carrying Lillian. She flings her.

"Gladly, gorgeous. Come here, big girl. Let me help you."

The sight of Kara wobbling on unsteady legs, leaning on Tiffany and _weakened_ makes cold sweat seep down Lena's skin.

Lena pulls the weapon out, racking it with the ease born of a thousand spot-inspections and midnight marksmanship sessions from Mercy Graves. She puts the muzzle to the top of Lillian's head.

"What did you do to her?" Lena demands.

"Revealed her true nature. Brought out the beast."

She can use this blazed out of her mind from sleep deprivation. She can use this with one eye closed. She can do it with a cast on one arm -- Mercy didn't break it for that drill -- and her bad hand. She can go from muzzle to her forehead to putting three center-mass shots in her opponent from a ten different chokehold and starting blows. Mercy Graves is the best soldier on the planet who can still be bought and Lillian bought her to protect Lex and Lena.

"More information. Quickly. I have more important meetings this afternoon."

Lillian knows what _coldness_ sounds like because she's the one who demonstrated her own heartlessness so wonderfully and in so doing taught Lena how to mimic sociopathy.

"Lex invented _so many_ kinds of synthetic kryptonite. Kill, maim, frighten, enrage, weaken, take their powers. Strengthen, from back when he was friends."

"Fair enough. I suppose I'll have to find the files. That wasn't synthetic. Synthetic K is shiny, not gritty. I'll have to figure it out before the baby is born, I suppose. Goodbye."

"Lena, baby? What on Earth are yo-"

Lena thumbs the safety off. Lillian surges up, hoping to grab the gun before it's too late. Lena pulls the trigger three times, hoping that the recoil will drive the barrel up and shatter her water pitcher, slicing her face with the shards. Lillian's shrapnel studded hand-sliced along her arm. She ended up on her back and the gut-shot and the headshot Lillian suffered were too close in time to ever be put back in order by the coroner.

_Very plausible. Thank you, mother._

Jess scrambles around the corner.

"Miss Lutho-"

"Kara brought her. I was trying to keep her hostage and she tried to hack the biometric on my pistol. We struggled, and..."

Jess nods.

"I understand. I'll call 911 and I can have Ms. Cale up here inside of five minutes, just you watch."

Fortune favors the bold. Alex is part of the FBI team that snatches the scene from the NCPD. Logical enough seeing as how Xenocrimes has ended up investigating more crimes against aliens than crimes committed by aliens -- immigrants behave similarly galaxy-wide -- but it still feels like a blessing to see a sympathetic face.

She makes her men work the scene with a purpose, denying Veronica Cale's increasingly pointed threats to her bank balance if she doesn't let her client get off her knees.

"Self defense is about placement," Alex replies. "Angles. If we capture this entire situation _now_ , it settles things _later._ "

A young man enters the room with ginger hair and a weird contraption with three sets of tripods. At Alex's direction, placed on the ceiling as it is an untainted surface with no brains, blood, seawater or Kryptonite on it.

"Five resonance scans, agent. Ultrasonic and neutron scatter mapping. We set up the block targets at ten-meter range."

Ten minutes later Lena is blinking the glare out of her eyes and taking a precautionary anti-radiation tablet from Alex. A body bag is taking the worst years of Lena's life away.

"Double dose. For the babies."

"Thank you."

All that remains is whether she can keep Kara. How can a murderer have that pure-hearted, spider- _moving,_ kitten-bottle-feeding, heart-opening, soul-making blessing of a girlfriend? Kara has healed her. Ever since the moment Lena landed on top of her, she started to be a human _being_ rather than just human biologically. She could find herself. Find all the feelings and wondering and soul aching worry that goes with.

_Will she ever look at me again?_

When Tiffany helps a still-grimacing Kara out of the ladies, infinite blue eyes catch hers. 

This is it. Kara will have heard every word. Heard when Lena's heart rate spiked when she was lying. More than likely she saw through her Lex-inspired meditation to fake her heartbeat out for a Kryptonian.

There's a nod. That's it.

This isn't Claire Kent. 

This is Kara Zor-El, scion of Erok-El. The tragic termination of three grand houses. The half-broken branch at the top of family trees. The last Lady of Argo. The last to carry the title of Sunrise Empress. 

Lena is carrying her heirs, somewhere in her body and at higher than usual risk. Kara owes her. That's easy. The Luthors know about debts. What Lena is unfamiliar with is _hope._ Hoping she also carries part of her heart.

Claire Kent is simple. Superwoman is simple. The privilege of having lived one life, not two, and while transitioning is never easy, Claire moved on a straight line of good parents to good career to good wife who embraced her identity without reservation.

Kara is not so lucky. She is so complicated it makes Lena ache just imagining how it must feel.

Turns out that _complicated_ saves her.

\-----

When the paramedic tells Kara she needs fatty foods to rebuild the fat lost from the wound cleaning, Lena chuckles at her sudden glee.

Late-stage capitalism will destroy humanity, Lena's sure of it. It also means she can have pita bread and hummus at her office in ten minutes and feed a delirious Kara out of her hand.

When her phone reminds her it's ten minutes to Claire Kent's interview, she panics and Kara pulls her down.

"Jess can push it. Stay. Hurts, Lee."

"Shh," Lena coos, smoothing her hand down Kara's bandage. "You are an awful patient, you know that? I needed three kilos of blue kryptonite to clean the wound because of all the wiggling. You spilled my entire supply."

Alex is knocking on the door, exhausted, just-showered, and smiling. She's back in her civvies. Just like Kara, casual on Alex is windbreaker and baggy joggers, which Lena suspects more and more is part of their care routine for their omegas. Utterly unflattering but easy to shed when a raw, lust-pained clit needs stroking with a finger or a tongue or a cock. 

"Her biology means the only available doctor is her _wife_ ," Alex jokes. "Unconventional. I think it's a punishment."

They sit. They listen to Lena's 'soothing' playlist. The Hope Deluxe's shimmering magnetically suspended compute core dances like a double helix. Blood is thicker.

That's where Claire Kent finds them, with an injured Kara curled close to Lena and Alex carefully cleaning her personal weapon. Lena doesn't give the disguised super the honor of lifting her eyes from Kara's sweaty, fevered scalp.

"Yes. I was on the Venture. Yes. Your cousin saved me. No. My security team has not found out why my seat was targeted. Yes. I was here when Lillian was shot. No, I didn't kill her in cold blood. Yes. I plan to take Kara home and have her fuck me until I forget. Any specific questions about the Venture components we supplied from our labs, my ticket purchases, anything like that? Those should be in the files on the flash drive in that envelope on my desk. Do you have any other questions?"

"One step ahead, just like your brother. If far easier to interview," Claire jokes. "I think that will be more than enough, Miss Luthor."

"Thank you," Kara whispers.

" _Mazel tov_. It's all the office was talking about after someone overheard Alex about the pregnancy dose of anti-rads. _El Mayarah,_ Kara."

Lena drags her nails over Kara's skin.

" _El Mayarah,_ Kal Jor-El," Lena replies.

With a sad almost-smile that speaks of 'could have been' between their families, Claire leaves.

Alex goes back to cleaning her personal weapon, a sleek Coluan-made causality manipulator. 

Reality-warping madness in a chunky, oversized pistol that looks fancy enough to have settings for disintegrating, kill, stun, stasis, temporal manipulation, mustard, pickles... Lena is jealous. It has a power core large enough that it can probably pull of 'spontaneous generation of bacon' which speaks volumes about human inferiority. 

Human weapons throw hot metal. Lena blew Lillian's brains out with a gun. A weapon whose core principles are no more advanced than ancient Chinese ones that used bird guano, saltpeter, cast lead and a tube of bamboo.

Coluan weapons wrap the target in a manipulation field and roll and reroll the dice until something _happens_ at the target even if the chances of it happening randomly on a coin toss would mean tossing and tossing past the lifespan of the universe. The gun Alex just tucked back into her waistband uses a pair of caged black holes, one here and one somewhere across the universe. It could have turned Lillian's head into a fishbowl or a mylar balloon if that subroutine was loaded.

The craziest thing about Lex wasn't Lex's rage It was that he thought he could _win._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I switched Kal's name from Kal-El to Kal Jor-El since that matches the name pattern we see with males (Kal-El = First Name-Family Name) versus females (Kara _Zor_ -El = First Name Father's FirstName-Family Name) so it seemed like a good correct-gendered chosen name for Claire Kent to take.


	13. Spinning Up, Spinning Thread - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New suit, new Kara. New friends, new traditions.

**Alex Danvers | 7:56PM**

Tiffany is such an easy woman to partner with Alex had to remind herself it was their first.

The movement, the nonverbal goads, the how hard and how fast and where and all parts of the sex felt well worn and comfy, like Tiffany's nooks and crannies were part of a winter coat she'd worn for years. Easy to be swept up. Easy to forget to check-in, to ask, to quiz because she was so flighty and responsive that feeling her out was a snap. _Everything_ does _something_ for this woman. Nibbles on the wrist? Gasp. Palm gathering up a breast? The reward is a desperate scrabbling of the feet, trying to get _closer closer closer_ whether it's possible or not. Fingers sliding up past the knee? Utter bonelessness and thighs toppling open to reveal a warm, slippery, _noisy_ entrance. A cunt with no shame that slips and slurps and squishes in a little symphony of rude female happiness. Alex could write about book about the way that fluttered and gushed on the tongue. 

In whatever odd calculation klixen make, Tiffany excelled. Pistil reacted as gleefully to the first brush of Tiffany's walls as they do to Kara's searing, punishing clench. Alex has spent the last two hours glued to the woman in her lap, that hurts-so-sweet swelling at the base making her practically a part of Tiffany's body. Pistil's way of telling Alex's body that Tiffany is _special and right and well-matched_ and more than just something slippery and pleasant.

Tiffany made sure Alex made use of the time, walking her through her nightly hair-care ritual because a white woman wouldn't intuit it and she was right. Alex wouldn't have. Strange how _different_ that one entire routine is for such a tiny change. 

' _Every night before bed,'_ Tiffany purred. _'I like to let a lady do it for me.'_

Finally, after combing and kissing and nipping at the ears and a crash course in natural African hairstyles and the care and feeding thereof, Alex is soft enough.

"Don't pull out," Tiffany murmurs, stilling her with a long, skinny hand placed on Alex's knee. "We forgot a towel and it'll run. No seeds, right?"

Alex kisses the spot she bit into Tiffany. 

"Right. Not on mine."

"But she can with hers?"

"Mmm-hmm. These aren't compatible with humans that way."

Her mouth still tastes of copper from sinking her teeth into Kara, Lena, Lucy and Tiffany in rapid sequence and she's woozy from blood loss from the reciprocation. Somewhere at Fort Sam Houston, a medic is treating a no-doubt-sheepish Lucy for Lena's sadistic chomp and she's probably getting reamed by her CO about why she disappeared for three minutes from a military base and came back with a bouquet of mate bites. Someone mentioned watching Dracula and the weird reboot TV show was on and the actress looked a bit too much like Lena to give it a skip.

Then Kara realized that the _real_ Lena was not being slow-stroked from behind and that much could be fixed. 

Then fake-Lena's blonde best friend didn't return her love. 

That wouldn't do at all. 

There was a shoe thrown, cracking the TV. 

Alex has long since learned to insure _all_ electronics near her wife. She gave a one-off to their cute insurance adjuster once she since couldn't prove anything. She'd already signed off but she had a pleasant, pre-heat gleam to her. Alex needed her to emphatically agree that Kara was just _big_ and _clumsy_ and _silly_ and when she passed Simone off, Kara proved each and every one by eating her out, knocking over a chair, and tripping on her jeans trying to get them off.

**Ding-dong!**

Lena shifts under Kara's bulk, trying to lift her head to look at the door and in so doing only exposing her throat for Kara's tongue.

"Ah. Mmm! Kara. Door," she mumbles. "Kara...mmm...door...mmm."

Each steady, gradual plunge to the very bottom has Lena sighing, wiggling her fingers in the carpet, purring just a _bit_ louder and a _bit_ breathier. Kara is wringing the breath and the pain out of Lena like a spong. Cleansing her with this adorably simple if clearly _challenging_ depth and pace she's setting.

Kara is still off her game for sure but whatever this substance is, Lillian made an epic mistake. 

The first four hours post-infection were a literal blur of her taking Lena, Tiffany and Alex herself on any surface she could pin them against, her thrusts inhumanely fast and ramrod straight and tireless. Before anyone was in actual pain they had worked out a way to pierce the fog and get through 'too much' and 'slow down' and after Alex had to re-do the wound dressing which Kara's zeal had re-opened.

Tucking the skin of her wife's belly back down and surgical-gluing it in place was unpleasant. What _hurt_ was how Kara cried when she saw the fingerprint bruises on Lena's overripe-peach, oh-so-markable body. Lena's flashing, hemlock-green eyes hinted that wanted more rough trade in the future and that'll be Alex's job to soothe Kara's nerves about 'hurting her' which at this point is ridiculous. 

Being too rough with a female partner is something Kara's worried about more than every man who ever lived put together.

A sneakily gained blood sample and her portable scanner showed Alex that it was psychoactive kryptonite as they thought. Two distinct kinds, similar only in their color. Kara's estrogen/testosterone analogs are sky high and she's swimming in her equivalent of cortisol, the low-grade fear hormone. She's nervous, angry and crazy horny. Now that there ares boundaries and an idea of what might be a less scary dosing?

Alex wants the recipe. How lucky that Luthors are Kryptonite savants.

"Peppermint," Lena says to no one in particular. "Peppermint kryptonite. Because it's a pink-red blend."

Alex laughs.

"Love it."

**Ding-dong!**

"Kara, love. The door?"

Kara growls, snaps her hips forward, moves a hand from Lena's hips and around to swipe messily at her clit.

"This first," she grunts.

Kara stills, grinds her hips and trembles. Lena just _purrs_ and gives no other sign that she just came. If Alex hadn't felt a dozen of those stealth orgasms around her fingers this weekend, she wouldn't believe them.

**Ding-dong!**

Lena gives an appreciative squeeze to Kara's bicep.

"That's perfect, Kara dear. _My alpha._ Get the door."

Kara nods, her brain function returning at the deeply-grooved signal of Lena calling her that. Pavlov's dogs got nothing on Kara's praise kink when she's sweet on someone.

Kara grabs her robe and tosses a blanket over Lena without looking. It was almost a direct hit. A laughing Lena covers herself up.

"Winn, hi. It's...right."

"You're Winn," Lena says over her shoulder. "Right? From the photo?"

His dumbstruck face means that if he wasn't named Winn _before_ being told he was by Lena Luthor, she just changed his mind.

"Oh, wow. _Wow._ So the new heat buddy who you didn't tell me about. Hey, I get it! Heat buddy code. No kiss and tell. But holy fucking shit! That is the richest woman in America and tied for the smartest human being _in history_ and she's just what? On your carpet, obviously naked under that. Netflix and chill. Bad sci-fi with the wrong subtitles selected. Happy as a clam. Right!"

"Right! New plan. I'm going to go fangirl and scream in the coat closet for a hot minute. If her holiness was slightly more clothed when I returned, I would think it a balm for my weak, mortal mind."

Winn drops the several large bags -- clanky? full of tools? what is Kara up to? -- bags he brought and scurries into the hallway.

"I like him! He should come over more often," Lena jokes. 

"We could play Monopoly or something..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behold, the legend of the origins of game night.  
> \-----  
> I made Mina Harker in the 2013 Dracula adaptation a blonde so that it would be the sassy brunette / shy blonde pairing from Supergirl.


	14. Spinning Up, Spinning Thread - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New suit, new Kara. New friends, new traditions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a rant trying to explain comic book heroine costumes. As a treat.

**Kara Zor-El Danvers | 9:38 PM**

Everyone chimed in on the suit. Alex had a very sensible -- likely self-serving -- idea about how to alter the leggings so that she could pack Flamebird down one leg or the other without any risk of...uprisings in the field. Winn finished his coughing fit at the suggestion and tweaked the wireframe model on his tablet. The pouch would be sun-lamped so that if detached, the symbiote would be fed, safe and resting. The other side would be padded by a self-molding, computer-controlled bag that would track shape to maintain symmetry.

Kara is beginning to think this is about Alex wanting her to have the klixen on her at all times and possibly so Alex can point her at Lena and say 'fetch'.

Lena's ideas were loudest of all but also _lewdest_ of all so none of her ideas made the cut.

Well, except one. After all, there might be a call for a second cell phone _or if not,_ that behind-the-shoulder compartment is big enough for a lube flask and a couple condoms... Build for what you will need later. No sense wasting 'kit space' as it is apparently called, Winn agreed.

The design was nice. The skirt option was nixed with a hearty chorus. Which does make her wonder how she ended up _here_ with something that looks like it came out of a spray can and with it on, there's enough cling to in her nipples in place for three-dimensional inspection.

"Let us see!" Tiffany whines.

Kara groans and goes around the corner.

"Winn, I wouldn't wear this to the beach..."

He tips backward, laughing his head off.

"Oh, oh, oh my god, Kara! That's just the _underlayer_ , you impressively bestowed twit!"

Feeling very stupid and very _looked_ _at_ , Kara covers her cling-wrapped breasts nervously with her arms.

"Uncover," Lena demands, her voice dropping to a low scrape. Like rusted iron. "Please."

Ignoring the petulant, trembling call of her omega is hard, Kara has learned. Achingly so. 

_Rao, this back-and-forth must be why alphas pair so often with omegas,_ Lena realizes. _And why heat buddies don't meet up for sex between._

It's just not done. This is why. By now, the idea of seeing Lena only every three to five weeks makes her want to throw up. She's in too deep after four days because now, the delirium can't be blamed. She likes _Lena_ and the safe distance of hormones is no longer an excuse. No pretty lies.

Outside of a heat or rut and the too-tired-to-breathe cuddles after them, a goodbye breakfast could destroy lives. The omega wants more pancakes, the alpha is out, the omega promises a treat, the alpha says to not be naughty and beg and the omega begs. A week later, they're both fired and for not showing up to work and someone ends up holding a pancake mix store clerk at gunpoint. 

This stomach-clenching _want_ either stays in the bedroom or it stuffs itself into every crack of the brain.

Lena is unhappy. She, the alpha, is not providing. It's ridiculous to think that she _owes_ Lena a chance to ogle her but Kara's every bone is itching to _give give give_ and that's what Lena wants _._ Kara doesn't want to move her arms but Lena wants it and not _playing the game_ or even making a counter-move feels like shit. 

After retrieving a bathrobe and plunking down beside Lena, she runs her hand along Lena's scalp. Lena sips her tea and _purrs_ at the simple, G-Rated apology, stopping the spiral. 

With Lena, Kara discovered that purring isn't something bad romance novels came up with over the last year. It's real. Lena is humming like a human being but also her voice has dropped past what human vocal cords had before so far the hum has a scratchiness to it. Not a kitten purr either. The purr of a big, Lena sized cat. Like a lynx, perhaps. No. Lena is like a snow leopard. Illusive. Hidden. Graceful. So rare and lovely she exists between rarity and being beyond, being legend and myth.

_I'm definitely doomed with her._

"I've always wondered, Winn," Lena asks, having used that Luthor brain to make big-people words. "Why _are_ the suits so damned tight? I'm guessing that if there's a Batwoman porn parody, the costume was _looser._ I swear to god. Drives me up the wall that they look like that."

Winn shovels more Grape-Nuts into his mouth, probably thinking before he answers.

He mumbles something completely unintelligible. It had four sounds.

"Without the spoon," Alex teases.

"Metahuman energy loop effect. MELE."

Alex narrows her eyes.

"Where did _you_ hear about that?"

"I found a dark web forum started by this former ASA guy -- Gambi -- and it's now kind of his memorial. He was sent to spy on black folks in Freeland. The government was dropping drugs into vaccine drives to try and create metas. He was a tailor, that was the cover. One of his client's kids ended up kind of seeing him as a dad figure. Anyway. Kid turned out a meta, Black Lightning. He provided him gear like the government wanted. Figured they'd put him down after a live-fire exercise."

"Kid went quiet, got married, got a degree, had daughters. Both daughters meta-ed out during the anti-police protests a couple of years back. Gambi approached them for gear this time. Came clean, dropped what he knew into the web so that rogue metas could suit up on the cheap. Got killed for it. Tortured, gunshot to the back of the head, dumped on the lawn. Whole secret agent special. On Christmas Eve. One the daughters manages the forum now as a memorial and a place to read about how to equip meta vigilantes."

"Goes by Thunder. Might be a doctor or something. I private messaged her to ask about aliens versus metas. She wasn't sure but the thought the effect was similar. Anyway, the MELE is a skin response that _most_ metas have with their powers. Like, say I developed the power to shoot frogs..."

"Weird flex," Tiffany jokes. "Impress us, weird white guy."

"So, the frog starts..." Winn taps his knee. "Here. Just a smear. I can't really _control_ the origin point and most metas say they can't. So frog particles, frogitrons, let's say, start here. Kind of like sweat. Then the skin around it joins the party. If the skin is bare or covered in something compatible with the power and at the same distance everywhere, it builds normally. Once there's enough to mentally visualize it I can actually gather it and bring it where I want it and..."

He makes a gun with his hand and points it at the bookshelf.

"Ribbit!"

Tiffany cackles, toppling backwards into Alex's arms.

"You are the wobbliest omega I've ever met," Kara grumbles. "Before or after sex. Put sand in your shoes or something!"

Winn snorts.

"The MELE is why most metahuman suits, especially at the rookie stage are the same. Skin-tight one-piece but no gloves. Sometimes they add a completely separate outer layer, ninja robes or whatnot once they learn how to fight without tripping on their powers. But the base layer has to be tight and uniform. One job. Keep the power's effects -- ice, electricity, not-yet-named particles, magic, light -- on the skin and evenly distributed. If the fit varied, the sweat pants would mean that the cute top had half a melted frog under it because the buildup failed."

"Non-meta heroes probably just do it so that they don't feel left out. I know if I worked out enough to look like Batman does, I'd flaunt it. He probably does it so he looks as jacked as one of his meta buddies. Doesn't hurt that metahumans tend towards a different muscle growth rate in males and in females. Plus in females, body fat is kind of...clumped together."

"You mean they're _stacked_ is the scientific term," Lena teases. "Front, back, and sides."

"Well, apparently metahuman adipose tissue is not inclined to attach to itself. So it either gathers in big piles or is smeared perfectly evenly under the skin. So unless there's enough to _pad_ it just ends up a later of evenly-smeared jelly over the muscle. Hence the abs-butt-boobs effect. If you tickled her, you'd find out that the abs are about one-quarter-inch of fluff down. It's also why metas who power up _pre-puberty_ and _post-puberty_ look totally different as adults, both genders. Adult-onset burns off fat that isn't already in big piles like breasts, glutes, hips, belly, so on. Dropping two cup sizes permanently is not unheard of, nor is having other fat ending up there. That gives the classic 'thanks, I hate her!' proportions and the diet to maintain a body like that doesn't help. Men just end up head-to-toe liposuctioned unless they were overweight enough to keep a pot belly."

"Childhood onset means a more mere-mortal vibe. Typically tall, typically slim, at least until late teens. Not a heart-attack risk to onlookers. There's actually a long thread of pre-teen girls who are metas swapping tips about getting the right diet to fill out, Thunder said."

"Huh," Lena mumbles. "Why don't more of them put on an outer layer, though? Something less...worse than naked."

Kara laughs.

"Misdirection. Lee, I cannot tell you how many crooks I've gotten the drop on because they were popping a boner and those were my sweats-and-T Shirt patrols. Tactics, woman!"

Lena shoves her playfully. Kara shoves back. Her omega challenges, she answers.

The fabrication module hums in Kara's office, weaving and forging and knitting the metal filament.

They eat cereal. They swipe left on Tiffany's Tinder and shut it down. 

Winn complains about being a bi man omega, a no-man's land between long-honed gay male tactics for safe sex and the new, riskier, biologically necessary alpha-omega fluid link. He's caught between the stigma of having had male partners, his own caution and pining for Lyra, a female alpha he crushes on who 'would grab a beta' if he couldn't provide the skin-on-skin sex that she would want during a rut. 

He doesn't even have to say that. It's vanishingly rare that female alphas take male omegas as lovers unless they get to bury the itching pains of rut in the same person they want to argue about dishes with.

"Just get tested, big boy," Alex scolds.

"Not so simple. She's three-quarters Hakkarrian, Alex."

Tiffany tilts her head.

"Catgirls?"

Lena melts back and groans.

"Tiffany is banned from the internet. Felid-analogous humanoids, Tiff, and even that is just a clinical, medical, not slur way of saying 'looks kind of like a cat'. Warm-blooded, two arms, two legs, has hair. So do humans. We have seashell-shaped ears, Hakarrrians have more cup-shaped, rounder ears. Fingernails are wider, thicker and curved. Not sharp but tough enough to _be_ sharpened. Hair is far thinner, paler, and downier than what's on our heads but spread evenly. Tailbones are longer than a human's but fewer in number. Et cetera."

"The cat part is humans being quick to categorize. We combine ears, a human-like face with a longer jaw depth, fur, long black fingernails and decide it's a space tiger. Surely it must chase space mice and eat space kibble. Done. Everything we need to know," Lena scoffs.

"Luthor nailed it," Winn says, waving his spoon at Tiffany. "That's a really touchy issue for lots of aliens, Tiff. We met at a trade show when she tackled some dude waving a laser pointer around and he knocked into me. Racist ass." 

Kara snorts.

"Is it bad that _I want to kiss her_ now?"

"Yes! Yes it is!" Winn snaps. "You got Alex. One smoking female alpha is enough for you Kara!"

Tiffany lays down and bonks her head on the carpet.

"You win. I may be black but clearly, I have some human female privilege here, Winn. Educate me."

"Like, specifically about the cat stereotype stuff? Shit. Uh. Lyra's vegan. She sat in the ocean for like, two hours just because the water smelled different in LA than here. Favorite food? Coconuts. I know this because I went to an all-nighter panel and it was the next room up form mine. It's stupidly hard to find a place that will just sell you a bare coconut, straight up, in LA at three in the damn morning and when you do, two drunk people in hacking-joke shirts carrying one coconut with no good explanation _will_ get their stupid nerdy asses questioned by police."

"I gotta hear more about this..." Kara chortles.

"Walmart. Shit coconut, it turned out. I was curious and I asked her if she found she liked as a kid, or if she was new to Earth. Bunch of people have a 'landing food' that they get crazy about..."

Alex rolls her eyes.

"Looking at you, pot-sticker-at-wedding-reception..." she says with an elbow to Kara.

Winn clears this throat.

"Anyway. Lyra sat down at a picnic table bench, put the claws on one hand into the coconut, lifted and swung it into the boards on the bench. Presto. She told me that's why she files an edge into hers. Lots of her friends shave them down. She was kind of raised between her planet and here when her parents switched sabbaticals. Academic brat. There's a fruit there that looks and tastes a bit like coconut, I guess."

"I mean, I wouldn't say _no_ to her lacerating my back," Winn jokes.

"She's fun, we have shared interests, similar careers...and if the StarfarerMD page is right, post-virus cycles for Hakkarrians suck ass. They had something like it before but the virus increases natural reactions they have to Earth's atmosphere to the point of skin irritation, anxiety, dizziness, disorientation. I feel bad knowing it will happen to her, just because she's a good person."

"So if she's a thing and it's an option and we're together, I really want to help her. Yeah, I could get tested. Human male? Human female? Done. The tests to spin out whether anything might interact with _alien_ DNA or blood types, even just protein complexes that my body can't react to but might literally kill her? Those are about five thousand dollars before reimbursement comes in, some hella painful scraping, six vials of blood and take a month to come back. And I'd need some deets from Lyra. Like the Red Cross code for her alien blood type."

"Oh," Tiffany mumbles.

"Yeah. Oh."

"So Plan A, what I like to call The Winn is Shy Plan. I ask her for coffee and we're taking it slow and maybe doing a movie. Then time rolls around and it's not safe to do anything bare or we haven't had the talk so I haven't gotten tested. Now I'm sitting there watching her jumping at every noise and not knowing where she is and trying to scratch a mosquito bite into a bullet wound. Watching her go through something that feels a lot like losing your mind once a month." 

"Plan B is I'll just rock up and say 'Hey, Lyra, what's xeno-hemotype, your when's your rut so I can make sure Planned Parenthood has results in time and also, want to grab coffee? But not like, a date-date.' So either we're dating, maybe it's serious now and she's in pain and I can't help or I have to start out being a total entitled ballsack."

"Which is nine-tenth of humans approaching aliens sexually anyway," Kara fills in for Winn. "Welcome to my planet, I assume you are here to fuck me, specifically?"

"Kind of both doomed outcomes," Winn agrees. "Insufficient doomed and she chokes me to death and I deserved it doomed."

"Damn," Tiffany mutters. "Now I feel bad for not bitching about betas who figure that I'm in it for life because otherwise, I'd be with an alpha. One of them even called it playing on easy mode."

Winn groans.

"No, no. That's a thing. Let's bitch about that one _together_. Friends?"

Tiffany offers her fist for a bump.

Winn and Tiffany complain about internet dating post virus and post First Contact.

Alex feeds a kitten.

Comet decides that Lena is her human now and Streaky agrees. Beppo, the puppy, takes four tries to climb aboard. Lena snoozes and beagles pile up on her lap.

Kara wonders how she went this long _without_ being a superhero, if this is it the after-work chill routine.


	15. Spinning Up, Spinning Thread - Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New suit, new Kara. New friends, new traditions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Kryptonian Women's Studies 101: A case study of Kara Zor-El, masculinity as anonymity and and women recovering their sexuality through shows of force._  
>    
> I always felt Kara's femininity in the show is performative, uncomfortable often. Men's clothes work better. 
> 
> It's not just the Clark Kent cosplay the writers were clearly going for. She's cozy in men's button-downs. The fan photo edits making a male Kara are almost too easy given how often she just slots into a stance, clothing style, behaviors that are male. 
> 
> She lives in them and Melissa Benoist makes them look natural in her physicality on-screen, going from a bumbling boy in high-school journalism class when she's incognito at work to swaggering, hulking warrior woman when in the suit. The skirt makes it obviously female but her movement, her taking of space, her threatening of villains, etc. are all rooted in a fairly bullish, swaggering, very-unladylike persona.
> 
> Supergirl seems more female, more embracing, more willing to sass and call out her femaleness than Kara Danvers does. She also over-protects when it's a female bystander, like she's showing off and she moves towards a baddie like she's going to make off his women when she's done with him.
> 
> She dresses so masculinely and so consistently that it knocks the audience on their asses in "Falling" when Red K Kara shows up in fitted, stylish, attention-getting dresses and club clothes. It's actually the most major clue that something is up post-infection. Letting the alien go and pouting during briefings could be she's just totally sick of Hank's bullshit) and Cat Grant perks up immediately. 
> 
> When she starts being (hetero)sexually forward with James it's a flashing red light. This isn't our girl. If we step back, it's partially it's because she's acting like a 25-year-old woman dressing (fairly typically) to go out dancing and go after a man she wants. Despite James being the goal, it's instructive. We're seeing Kara partner-seeking for the first time in 1x16 and that's not all that unusual. 
> 
> Two of her best friends are at the nightclub and they don't recognize her at first.
> 
> Because she's in a dress. Kara Danvers simply doesn't wear dresses. 
> 
> We realize without realizing that Kara Danvers dresses like a man at work, wears sweaters and sweats at home with Alex and doesn't go after men. Kara Zor-El comes out to play, emboldened by her Supergirl persona, struts and sways in a skirt and she openly crushes on the female president.
> 
> If we factor Kara's more-feminine styles in Season 4 and Season 5 to this pattern, who is she spending the huge majority of her time with? Lena. A woman who she obviously desires. With the exception of the suit, Kara Zor-El only wears women's clothes and looks at ease in them when she wants something. 
> 
> When she wants to impress a woman.
> 
> Kara Danvers is a nice, shy boy that'll have her home by nine, absolutely, Mr. Smith. 
> 
> Supergirl is the bad girl, the one who wears short red skirts and knee-high boots and talks to sketchy men and gets in fights. The one your mom warned you about. She's also Kara reliving her old life, or processing it.
> 
> Kara Zor-El, being the combination of the two, will promise daddy that there will be no funny business and when the glasses come off she'll have little Susie's bra undone by the stop sign at the bottom of the hill and somewhere they'll pull over and she'll have Susie naked and spread out on the hood of her car and they'll just skip the drive-in.

**Alex Danvers**

"So? Whatcha think?"

Kara's supersuit is, well, it's everything _Kara_ that a piece of clothing could be. The painted-on underlayer is invisible now, hidden under a fitted coat that's anchored on Kara's shoulders and stays close as it traces her down ribs and in the back the coattails are slashed diagonally and hangs loose, like a cape might. The overall vibe is trenchcoat except the crimson tail is joined rather than split in two and attached on top of an actual jacket like a cape on a king armor. The jacket has clasps and wears the House sigil in silver, black and gold-plated metal on the left breast, over Kara's heart. When Kara clicks them open and spreads the jacket, it reveals there's another, larger outline of the sigil on a stiff, reinforced chestplate that seems to fuse with the skintight bodysuit below.

The hem of the jacket meets a golden circlet around the hips that rests on the hipbones and then swoops down as it comes to the front. Several metal cases for tools, elegant, slim things, are attached at even spacings along the belt, like links on a chain rather than obvious pouches. The slacks are simpler stuff, fitted somewhere between carpenter's jeans and martial arts robes, _both of which_ look good on her wife and hanging over long red boots, darker and smoky-toned compared to the bright, eye-snagging color of the cape.

Every single piece is mimics something Kara owns. Probably Kara shared her wishlist from her favorite clothing sites.

Half a dozen pieces of clothing that each have been known to lead to disorientation, dry mouth, increased blood flow to the lower body and _moistness_ in Alex when Kara wears them. It's a medley of things that look good on her, rendered in alien fabric and house colors.

Hell, it's basically Alex's life story, turned into one ensemble. 

The judo robes that featured in every other sex dream she's had since she was fifteen and in more than a few cases, actually led to sex in real life when she finally got that smug alien on her back in the dojo, pinned, wriggling and still mouthing off. (That's why they spar in the spare bedroom now.) 

The ankle-length coat-tails on the tux that was _almost_ a bridal gown's train, that white and silver number that Alex drooled over as Kara glided towards her at the altar, hiding nothing of the ease, grace or power of her body as she walked. 

The same, jacket opened and slacks loosened, rumpled, Kara melting into her like a candle as they danced at the reception.

The jean jacket the first morning of the honeymoon -- it had been her dad's, it was Alex's favorite -- that barely came around past the nipples when Kara stretched or yawned and how lazy and sweet a sight it was as it hung over Kara's body in the chilly Montana air of the cabin.

"Ally? Honey? Say something."

Kara starts fiddling with her glasses which were in her hand, flicking the arms open and closed like she wanted to put them back on. Wanted to hide. Wanted to be _human_ not _Kara_ and that hurts.

"Dont," Alex whispers. "Please...I just...I need..."

"So I did good?" Winn asks, without a shred of sarcasm.

"That's...definitely a suit," Alex finally manages.

"Yeah, Winn," Alex assures him after a shake of the head. "You did..."

Alex swallows a thick, messy mouthful before she can speak again. 

"You did real good."

"M'glad you like it, Ally."

Kara's smile is the same as the first one Alex saw. Raw. Pure. A grin from someone who had to _discover_ smiling in her new home and made it her fucking _mission_ to smile as often as she could. Practice makes perfect.

"Props, Winn. I did not expect _that_ reaction," Kara jokes.

"Thanks. I remembered Kara talking to Quinn and they were asking what pronouns Kara used and she said she/her but they/them was okay and I know Kara's work clothes tend to be from a queer male perspective, sugar daddy material and obviously she has some dresses and girly stuff, going by the home photos. But..."

"But the suit is a work thing," Kara agrees. "Like at CatCo. It's for the world, not for me. I guess Alex sees that too."

"Yeah," Winn agrees. "That was the thought. I'm your friend and I know I've never seen you in something without a belt buckle on it unless Alex is in eyesight."

Alex leaps to her feet, dumping a snoozing Tiffany who, bafflingly, just curls around Lena instead. Seriously. The silly putty omega, that one...

"Can we dance?" she pleads. "Please. Kara...I'm having like, flashbacks, babe. Of the reception."

"Oh," Kara murmurs. "Oh!" she adds with a much brighter chirp.

"Well, you're tempting but I'll have to ask my wife," she trills, offering her hand to Alex.

"Your wife would love to."

* * *

**Winn Schott**

"So, I had some notes about how the ge-oh."

Alex spins out in Kara's arms, twirling as far as the body-cluttered room allows and then back in.

"No one cares," he chuckles. "Right."

"You, squire, shall not speak," Alex commands. "This is lady of high birth and noble blood and I hereby invoke the divine right of _prima nocte_ as is mine own duty before God and Rao."

"More like my jester," Kara teases, nuzzling her cheek against Alex's.

Once the master bedroom door shuts with a click, Winn _feels_ like he did right by Alex and Kara with the suit. It's for them, really. Both of them.

The laughing and not-exactly-whispering and shushing is eager enough to go right through the door.

"Alex! What has gotten into you?"

"Nothing," Alex replies. "You're in _that_ and you're _not_ inside me. That's the problem."

There comes a point in every man's life where the best way to be a best friend is to put in some earbuds, cover the dog's ears, turn up Spotify and text his crush.

* * *

She's Got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts  
  
hey ly  
  
hey  
quick ?  
is it still murder if u don't put your handle on the code commit?  
bc I could just push this lil' button and there'd be a firmware update and Elon Musk's Tesla would kersplode  
#FreeGrimes  
i mean, not sure orange is your color I think it's like serial killing nope  
he used a google code project for the first twenty battery controllers  
which just got orphaned to my team  
his is number 13  
according to legend  
the first retail customer's blog says his glove compartment was stamped 33  
i mean, I'd miss you  
  
but I don't tell ppl their business  
  
esp ppl I like  
  
s'not nice for cute Ω boys to say that  
gotta tell me no  
srsly! esp right now bc I get pretty crazy during my 🥵  
if I'm with someone I make them chg my passwords  
damn  
  
wow. that's like SUPERmarried  
  
if you let them do that  
  
I know, it's why it's hard to find someone.  
I know we aren't that, ly  
  
but if u need someone to change the buy-it-now on your smart speaker  
  
i could do that  
  
i...yeah. for now, keep me from hate-mailing my boss/partner about the like, fucking surfer god omega   
who he brings to work  
like zero shame 😤🔪  
bad enough I have to post my cycle  
that's not cool   
  
supposed to be sealed  
  
yeah, well, it's pinned in our notes on the code board  
tech bros  
just don't think of shit like this  
and HR is a person in Pheonix who we can email sooooo  
oof  
  
are stock options worth it?  
  
dunno  
#FounderQuestions  
#NavelGaze  
playing keep-away with a douchcanoe's laser pointer was  
u free this weekend  
it doesn't have to be a thing  
can it be tho? my friends were giving me crap I told them about the coconut and *stuff* and I told them I liked you I should've told *you* but they don't scare me like u do good scared?  
yea. for you, I want to be good scaredaww thanks.  no big deal it is tho cuz I am no fun for like 5 days guess I'll have to get to know the real you then quit it. sweet Ω boys validating me during my 🥵 = 💦 💦 💦 [map pin][link][link][link]

Winn stares at his phone for a while. It's a length of time. Minutes, at least. Hours, maybe. Probably not days, because he can still hear huffing and groans from the end of the hall, though not as loud. Given that one of the players is _Kara_ who probably has the stamina to go with the strength and the other is _Alex_ who is somehow not dead from Kara-loving...it could be a week for all he knows.

It's morning, that's clear. Morning is when you can only see half the sun.

He snaps out of it when Tiffany throws her hands over his shoulders and looks at his phone. She lifts his phone out of his hands, looks at it and then steps on Winn's hand to get his attention.

"Easy on the merchandise!"

"What's your damage, dude? Look at that!"

"Huh? It's an emoji."

"Yeah," Tiffany scoffs. "I know. They don't have a rut one yet so _that's_ for both."

"Oh. Yeah. No one really understood the sheep emoji, saw a poll on the CatCo site about that. Not sure about these, though."

"It means she's wet, you cretin. Turned on? Slippery and ready to slide in? Thought you've been with girls before."

"Yeah, get the hint. I'm not Kara, okay? Not smooth. This is sort of _not my area_. It doesn't just come out of me."

"Pretty sure it does if you keep pumping it," Tiffany teases. "Don't worry, when your old enough, your body will know how to do that."

"Asshole."

"True."

"Jeez. Like, two girls, and a while back so...yeah. Whoa. When I put date on it, I feel like that makes the bisexual thing sort of asterisk-y actually."

"Nah," Tiffany huffs. "Not how it works. That's who's on your dance card and when."

"Right. Faire. Still, loser computer guy, here. Yeah my most long term was with a woman but that was kinda-pre iPhone. We started back in junior high and we definitely weren't texting about _that_ right off. The other one we broke up before we actually texted. Really drunk. Don't think the emoji was in use with my last lady."

"God, you're _adorable_."

"Let's collect our receipts. Your friend, who's flirting with you, an omega, when she is an alpha and clearly has the day before rut bitchies. Los Angeles is a ninety-minute drive if you leave right fucking now so you're good there. She trusts you enough to admit that. She told you being validated on her rut makes her wet. She sent you a map pin for her place, a link to the nearest CVS, her heat-break of choice, and fucking body lotion! What the fuck are you still here for?"

"I... Well, now that you say it that way I don't know," Winn admits.

Tiffany snorts.

"Having someone to give you the break pills is _so much better than not,_ Winn. M"not sure how it works for guys but...I'm guessing you just...kinda stay hard, right?"

"Kinda, yeah. I mean, not only that but that's what hurts worst. That's the hardest to fix. That's the worst for me. A lot of my ommy-boi group chat friends too."

"The part of _her_ that's hurting worst is telling her that she's missing something. Like she's not _real_ yet. Not to minimize what you go through but one advantage of where the bits are is guys can _get at the problem._ She can't just slap some lidocaine gel on it or something. I'm not sure how it is for female alphas but for omegas? It's just this ache. On my worst one, I got a whole-ass bath towel, soaked it in cold water, twisted it and crammed almost all of it up there because it was _something_ and now when I cramped, I could feel less empty. Didn't help much because my body knew what it wanted and that wasn't it. It wasn't even hard to get it in, between the sweat and the slick and how much my body was opened up."

"Anything helps. Talking is good, especially with mental symptoms like you mentioned. Cuddles count. Rubdowns count double. Kissing's good. Not sure how that works safety-wise with aliens...well, besides Kara. Go there, just be there for her. Listen, and if she wants that right now, _talk about it_ and just figure it out with your big-boy words. I'll let them know to bake a cake when you get back. And Winn? Don't overthink shit. Get tested for the _next_ one, if that's where she wants to go. "

Tiffany fiddles with the drawer on the table by the couch and then tosses him a Ziploc. Filled with condoms and latex gloves.

"They must have a bitching toybox," Tiffany muses, tapping her finger to her chin. "Because that's like, all the sizes. I really hit the jackpot."

"Go get her, Winn."

Tiffany disposes of the borrowed T-Shirt on the way to the shower, her dark hips swaying to the tune she's whistling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alex is using it as a joke, especially since she **is the lawful wife** but the _prima notce_ ("first night") was a term for the medieval practice of a king sleeping with a bride under his rule on her wedding night. 
> 
> It might have existed and it's abolition in legal codes points to at least the concept being in use, if not often actually done. Some scholars suggest that all references to it are biased, attributed to exaggerated or fictional accounts or are from later periods. 
> 
> While the European version is obviously NOT COOL their are some cultures (such as pre-contact Hawaii) where marriage seems to not have been used and similar 'dibs' on the part of chieftains was less a power move and more of an accepted/favorable thing for the woman's family.


	16. Spinning Up, Spinning Thread - Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New suit, new Kara. New friends, new traditions.

**Kara Danvers**

Kara rubs her hands together. The man in the convenience store hasn't hurt anyone yet. If she let him fire, he'd probably blow out the beer fridge, he's shaking so hard. His heart is rabbitting and clearly both the cocaine molecules in his bloodstream, it's panic. If he tries, she's just going to heat vision through the damn wall and take the gun -- and trigger finger if need be -- before he can. Better to grab an ice bucket and make for the emergency room than a body bag and head to the morgue.

"Right. You're bulletproof. You've got a suit, you can do this."

"Fuck," she tells herself.

"I need a quip."

Lucy's voice comes into her ear.

"Hey, you. Is this little dealie what I think it is?"

"No," Kara lies.

"Oh, good. Because I just got off for a couple days. So I would hate to have four CatCo stations splitscreened, one hand in my pants for the pre-game and just waiting to be _in your ear_ when you step out there, babe. Especially since I should be reporting a new alien superhero to my CO."

"Right," Kara says.

"Luce, you're sassy. Help!"

"Tell me what you got, babe?"

"Dude high as balls robbing a gas station."

Lucy scoffs.

"Easy. Walk in there and ask what's up."

\-----

The bell over Kara's head jingles. The robber is in a sweaty white T-shirt, slicked with withdrawal sweat. The gun is a long-barreled .45 revolver, if she remembers Alex's explanations of human weapons is heavy enough he's having trouble keeping the barrel up. The clerk has his hands up -- smart dude -- and it looks like his nose ring is about to fall out he's sweating so hard.

Fortunately the clerk is behind a concrete counter. Unfortunately, this is a nice neighborhood and the counter is open. No plexiglass. Long as she can keep the gun south of horizontal, or give him time to duck, no one _can_ get hurt.

"Morning, gents. What's up with you early birds?"

The robber just gapes at her.

"Hey, is that--ooh!--they have the white chocolate cherry slushies here."

"Not a fave? Nah. Everyone loves these."

She grabs two cups and starts pouring. There's an art to not putting all the shaved ice type stuff on one side.

"Unless you want one?" she asks the clerk.

"The hell is your problem," the clerk grits out. "Get him."

"Relax. Jittery Johnny here just needs to be nice and cool. Put the gun down. I can bench that dude one-handed, so put the gun down or put on me, all right?"

She takes one step closer, provoking him, and he does.

"There. Feel better?" she asks.

"One step closer and I end you, bitch."

Kara tilts her head.

"I am trying to pick a superhero name," she jokes. "Not that though. Feels fifth-wave feminist and I think we're only up to four waves here on Earth. Let's workshop it after."

"At least take the fucking _gun away,"_ the clerk whines.

"Right!" Kara laughs. "First day, my man. Practice makes perfect."

She zips around the store, putting a small stack of candy for her, a dozen carefully selected donuts and the bottled coffee drink that a rich girl is most likely to not turn up her nose at on the counter. Static electricity from her superspeed dances over the snacks and the lingering shimmer of near-lightspeed movement makes the air around it looks like bends and wobbles under the overheads.

"FUCK!" the robber shrieks when his optical nerve reports new information to his brain.

Kara slurps her slushie.

"Ring it up, my good fellow."

The clerk -- seriously, balls of goddamned diamond on this punk-rock omega -- shrugs and goes into automatic mode and just starts swiping barcodes.

"Your move, twitch. I can have that gun out of your hands and bent like a balloon animal before your brain, spine and nerves can tell your finger to pull the trigger far enough to make first pressure on the firing pin. Try to pull it and I'll get cranky."

He turns the gun from the clerk to Kara and back.

"Fine," she sighs. "Blooper reel it is. Knock yourself out."

He pulls the trigger until it clicks. Kara takes the last red hot lump of steel -- fathead rounds, good thing she stopped by -- and mashes it into his gun hand. 

"Fuck!" 

He drops the weapon on instinct and cradles the slightly-burnt skin.

Kara takes the gun and rolls the steel between her palms, turning it into one long noodle. She considers a sigil but that seems crass.

"Right! Classic."

She gets to work and soon drops a kitschy metal heart onto the counter.

"Make love, not war."

She turns to the robber.

"Now, we go outside to wait for the cops. You can put on your big boy pants and walk or I can carry you."

"I'll walk," the robber mumbles.

The NCPD seems to have shit response times to swank neighborhoods because unless the distance of those sirens is off, it's going to be ten minutes before they rock up. She takes a moment to write 'disarmed, no injuries' on the cement of the driveway with heat vision.

The clerk props the door open and leans in it slurps his slushie. Kara slurps hers. The robber has his hands clamped together with one of Winn's nifty self-cinching electrical zipties, so she put the cup in his hands. He guzzles with a vengeance.

"So, not bitch."

"Yeah," the robber agrees. "Not that."

"Superwoman's taken," he adds.

"Family thing, not stepping on toes."

"Oh," he mumbles. "That's neat."

"You're younger...I think."

Kara slurps for a long while before nodding.

"Supergirl?" the robber suggests.

"I like it," the clerk agrees. "I mean, you seemed like you were having fun, right? Supergirl implies being a kid at heart, playful, all that jazz."

The police come in like the goddamned Marines, piling out of four armored trucks and it takes Kara a moment to figure out why. They're carrying LexDynamics gauss rifles and the trucks each have power dampeners running inside. This is NCPD's new anti-alien team. They're wearing breather helmets and ballistic-fabric bodysuit and hard plate armor with clear faceplates. Somewhere on the body armor they must be using scent blockers in portable air filters. Kara has a rough count -- eight beta, three omega, one alpha -- but the tech is good. Despite the usual non-space culture microleakage on the seals and she couldn't put a face to a scent from thirty feet.

"Police! Hands in the air!" the guy in front shouts.

"Really?" Kara grumbles. "I'm not the perp!"

The robber sort of finger-waves around the slushy and raises his bound hands.

No one lowers their guns.

"Fuck," Kara hisses. "Fine."

She goes back inside, grabs the bag, drops a twenty in the tip jar and steps back out. A news truck has rolled up, staying well back but zooming in and using a long-range mic to capture from across the street.

"Better hurry!" She hollers. "Wife gets cranky if she doesn't get coffee," Kara jokes, wiggling the bottled frappucino.

"Looks like a job for Supergirl!"

She takes off, dancing past a volley of panic-shots from the gauss rifles below. Most are wide and going nowhere but she spots one round that's trouble and heat-visions the slug before it can wipe out that plane, or that GPS satellite it's a degree off from in high orbit.

Lucy's slowly-gathering moans make her nearly clip a billboard on the way back.

* * *

Supergirl  
@TheRealSupergirl   
@NCPD_Official Not sure I like it that the robber shot to injure and the cops went for headshots.  
#AliensHaveFeelings #GoodGuys #NotTargetPractice  07:11 AM - 09/26/2020  18k  451k 

The Queen of All Media  
@QueenCatherine   
@TheRealSupergirll Interview. Tomorrow. My office.  07:18 AM - 09/26/2020  8k  9k 

Supergirl  
@TheRealSupergirl   
@NCPD_Official @QueenCatherine @CatCoNews Meow! Cat Grant, ladies and gents.   
Film: at eleven.  
Panties: on the floor. 🩲👇. 07:22 AM - 09/26/2020  32k  689k 

* * *

Lucy crashed her mainframe when she saw the tweets.

Tiffany is _still_ tits-deep in retweeting it.

"You got these at a Slurp and Slosh?" Lena mumbles around a donut. "Amazing."

Red lips -- does she just put makeup on while laying around? -- stretch _wide_ and pearly incisors take another mouthful of cinnamon, dough and sugar. Kara can imagine lots of other things that mouth could do and Lena's eyes are a dark, dangerous green right now. Heart of the jungle. She's watching Kara watch her so she grabs a long cream-filled donut and starts to deepthroat breakfast, putting as much in as she can before pulling back a hair to bite off a mouthful and sucking cream out before swallowing a chunk that makes the pale skin of her throat flex. Kara's thinking nasty things and Lena's eyes are promising something that filthy. At least.

Kara really needs an adult right now.

Feeding a hungry Lena also leads to some deeply confusing moaning on the omega's part. Except she realizes _she's the one_ moaning after a couple of minutes.

Alex wanders out after a while, half-zombified. Kara's heart drops, a guilty twang about her exhaustion replacing the throb between her legs about the cuteness of her mussed, sweaty hair. Killing the mood before it really begins. They were fucking for a long time. Kara pops up, guides her to the fridge and wraps Alex's hand around one of her coffee-infused protein shakes. Alex's head tilts sloppily into the wrist and kisses the sleeve of Kara's suit.

"Thanks, Supergirl."

"You saw?"

"Phone walked off the nightstand..."


	17. Spinning Up, Spinning Thread - Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New suit, new Kara. New friends, new traditions.

**Lena Luthor**

Kara spent seven straight hours blazing through hero duties, bringing violent crime to a screeching halt in a city of nine million. She defined her moral code to the public by cracking down on littering but giving a pass to three people planting gardens against the weed ordinance and one graffiti artist who Lena is going to send someone and hire for the Luthor Arts Foundation. She shadowed every arrest of a person of color from the wail of the sirens to the processing, ever-present and all-seeing with her X-Ray vision. She walked four gay couples home simultaneously, miraculously keeping up a conversation and joking along while bopping between three neighborhoods with supersonic speed to prevent the hecklers from getting ideas.

She returned so warm from her frolic and implied manifesto that Alex spritzed her with a spray bottle to show off the steam. Scratchy voiced and pleased as can be, Alex is recovered functionally but clearly not sexually. The flesh gave out before Alex's reaction to the supersuit was spent. 

As she stage-whispered the basics of Kara's powers, there was no mistaking why Alex sounded like she'd just finished belting out an opera without a mic.

Lena never really 'got' women who enjoyed sucking cock, having assumed it was some sort of rejection of feminism or mild degradation kink. Hypocritical in the extreme for someone who puts a small, secret symbol in her personal diary every time she learns the taste of a new cunt but surely if anyone isn't perfect, it's a Luthor. Lucy seems to think it's the bee's knees and Alex's stolen glances as she and Tiffany stripped a half-sleeping Kara naked and tucked her under the blanket were telling.

Lena would freely admit that the feel of Ronnie against the brick wall, bearing down on her first strap, a too-big monster stolen from a SoHo store they were too young to enter, was a formative experience. Throwing her arm under her and helping her stagger home, flush with pride that Ronnie was happier than she was hurting might have been when Lena went from brave enough to try wearing it to being service top, defining their dynamic. With the discovery of aliens and their sex toys, twitching, organic, wired into her to skin and nerves, re-using her fluids? That was when she that spiraled to where she preferred to be packing with Ronnie and exclusively softer, tongue-and-finger vanilla lesbian experiences were for her meeker, casual bedmates.

 _It's not the cocks that bother me, it's the men,_ she realizes. _Because I'm not comfortable with men._ _Because when I wear one, I choose to and I know it means something for them when they take it inside._

_It's not the cocks..it's the assumptions._

This morning, she's discovering things about herself and her philosophy so fast and so filthy that her inevitable 'how I did it' autobiography is going to need to come in both PG-13 and X-Rated editions.

She has fragments of memories of sucking off Kara, mostly the one from the shower. The nerveless twitches of Kara's fingers, wet and useless against the shower walls. Unhooked from her brain that was too focused on Lena's attention. A landscape of bronze abs and breasts filling her vision. Kara's hand finally finding her head and even if she wanted to steer Lena or use her in the moment, there was no strength in grip. The tease Lena gave her this morning without hesitation, without thinking about it, let alone her usual cost-benefit on suggesting sex acts means that at some point, Lena's brain decided it liked it, at least as it regards Kara.

She was flipping through emails on her phone and she found a draft in her encrypted folder. Inches, time spent, breathing through mouth or nose, whether she was using a banana or a zucchini, it seems, notes like 'too much snot' and 'promising' and 'research causes of human gag behavior' and a slew of semi-insane notes and links to journal articles. Without being titled, or in fact mentioning anything racy Lena knows it's her log of deepthroat training Kara suggested and she apparently agreed to after she used the virus on herself. Rather it's the log of the _solo_ training she took up after of her own accord, she suspects. Kara would have had a more enjoyable, less scientific approach. She took screenshots and deleted the email before she accidentally forwarded it to Morgan Edge while she was composing her latest turn down to his come-ons in her inbox.

Curiosity beckons. 

Now, Kara is zonked out on the couch, long limbs arranged so randomly it's like someone tossed tinker toys out of a box. 

Now, Lena has all the power in the world.

Now, Lena realizes she doesn't know how she got to the good part of the memory.

If she keeps having so much fun on her heats that she forgets what happens, she will simply have to start videotaping it so she can reconstruct. Sex tape lawsuits be damned.

She doubts she just slid her mouth down, gracelessly and probably bringing up the donut in one fell swoop.

Female alphas with klixen get sleep erections in a different way, so says Lena and private browsing peek at WebMD. Men get them int he night, periodically, for about half an hour. Post virus, the average number increased and length decreased. That was it. 

Female alphas, with or without additions like klixen, get aroused in their sleep at the scent of partners. In this case, when Lena was over her for two hours, Kara didn't _stiffen a bit_ until Tiffany sat down nearby for a while, guzzled down some college-appropriate junk food, and set up a Shine Forever online game account for Lucy. Hidden depths. Then, it came on gradually and just _stayed_ until Tiffany left the area and the scent faded. That was a long two hours, more in the mental effect on Lena than anything. She doesn't have an all-night sample -- cinch to get one with her shitty sleep habits -- but she wonders if Kara had a hard-on that all Sunday night before Lena woke from her heat-induced amnesia. Simply because Lena was close. Perhaps the dynamic duo of Kara and Flamebird kept it on purpose in case Lena _needed it_ in the night. Perhaps it wasn't Lena and Kara. Perhaps an alpha had an omega's scent in the lungs and the omega was pinned so the alpha was entitled to tear into it upon waking. Both concepts are...heart-warming in different ways.

She can't pick out a time she was sleeping with Kara, woke up and didn't have something poking.

Lena can do this. She has to. She wants to do everything she did with Kara before. She felt alive, buzzed like she had licked an electrical socket, and happy when she woke up Monday morning. Two of her holes felt like they'd been through the war but both were still spoiling for a fight and Lena was insensate for one part and blasted with hormones for the part before.

"Project Mnemonic is a go," Lena mutters.

The Luthors defeat. Conquer. They crave it. It's a sickness. Future doctors will diagnose it and hopefully come up with a treatment. Lena's entire brain itches because if she plays it just right, she'll be a Luthor who has a Super at her mercy, not just stalling for time or devising the extent of her plans to ruin them. 

Mercy is a plea made by the prisoner and a choice made on the captor's part. This is the first time.

A dream-induced chuckle snaps Lena's ego to attention. One of Kara's big hands is over the back of the couch, the wrist dangling against the back of the IKEA couch at an angle that would leave a human screaming in the morning from lack of blood flow. No sense risking it.

Lena lifts the hand and takes a long, soft-skinned, _meaty_ middle finger in her mouth and sucks. The skin is smooth, which is good, and the knuckles are hard, which is a start but it's a poor icebreaker.

Kara mumbles something happy and meaningless. Lena repositions the hand on Kara's hip, satisfied she placated her prey.

"Fuck."

Lena drags her handbag from the floor by the couch and texts Lucy Lane. Lucy calls her back.

"Talk fast," Lucy pants. "Busy day. CO is all up my ass about the super stuff."

Alex chuckles and someone else gurgles. 

That was a rustle, more like a _whisper_ of fabric she just heard. If she had to guess, Alex is taking Lucy's ass while she rides Tiffany's face and from out here, there's no indication. The master bedroom allows only the tiniest sounds out. She has to know how it's soundproofed and get some contractors into her place. Two months. She always keeps a bug-out room when she's hosting of investors at her penthouse for when she gets too pissed off or to socially anxious. Now she knows exactly what self-care 'treat' she wants waiting for her in there.

Lena recovers the power of speech.

"IwantosuckKaraoffndIdon'tknowhow!" she babbles.

Speech is perhaps being generous for that.

"Ally, softer. Just rock inside me you _stud_ ," Lucy rasps. "Tiff, slower. Need to help Little Luthor."

"All right, Luthor. Where are we at now?"

"Uh, Kara's on the couch, I'm standing here across the room like an idiot?"

"Is she looking at you?"

"No, asleep."

"Oh, perfect! So, this is the thing. If you're slow enough about it and get lucky, whatever dream she's having, it will sort of mutate into a sex dream. That moment of what-the-hell when you wake up from a dream?"

"Y-y-yeah?"

"She'll look down and see she wasn't _actually_ dreaming after all. For a while after she'll look at you and the memory will pop up and it's like you were a gift from God. Actually, in that moment, to her? You _are_ God. She'll do anything to keep you there. My personal record for the 'is she real' thing was a year. This time, it'll be longer. That was a guy...they're more entitled about that."

"I want that," Lena decides. 

"Attagirl. If I get to pick, and if everything's clean, I actually prefer that trick as a morning sex opener. Hard yet?"

_Clean. I hadn't thought of that._

"No. If I don't stay close long, she doesn't get hard."

Lucy clicks her tongue while she thinks.

"If you're this nervous, babe, you want it to go in soft. It's not like P in V. They don't have to be hard first. Trust me, getting hard in your mouth is fun for all. Here's what I suggest. First, grab flavored lube. There's some around. God's gifts to omegas, these two. Second, pillow. You don't want to be into it when your knees get sore. Third, get a washcloth, one quick thorough wipe down, and then see if you can do it before she's fully up."

Lucy sniffs.

"So proud of her."

"Asshole."

"Cock koozie."

Lena holds her cell phone out and just stares at it.

"I really don't now what to do with you, Lane."

"That's why I say this stuff. The therapist says it's a defense mechanism to keep people from getting too clo-"

"FUCK!"

"Class is over," Alex snarls at the other end of the line.

"Alex," Lucy whines. " _Harder."_

A series of half-finished gasps indicate the thrusts are fast and shallow. There's no time for anything else and Lucy is reacting to each one with a freshened cry.

If Lena had nerves about this whole arrangement, Alex's growling timbre and Lucy's pitiful whimper of need banished them. Circuits connect in her head, like a monkey walked up to a panel and threw some switches. 

Deep, masculine vocalizations. High, needy female vocalizations. Aroused. 

Proving the skill of the fucker and the glee of the fucked at the same instant. One female showing a particularly tasty treat to another.

 _I want to be where she is,_ Lena decides. _I want to be near them, with them, so I can be under them and on top of them when I want to._

Two million dollars of tuition bought the classes rattling in her brain and they're fuzzy now. She's focused on some million-year-old song and dance that predates the existence of clothes, marriages, _rules_ and all the things society built that mean it's not the good old days. 

Kara can't walk up at L-Corp, beat the nearest male competition to a pulp, and throw Lena to the carpet and thrust into her.

Yet.

\-----

Lube. Check. Honey, strawberry juice over a peanut oil extract. Lip-Licking Lenore's. The woman eating a carrot on the label suggests something entirely different and the text on the back would get banned from an HBO standup comedy special. Because of _course_ these animal-loving vegan goddesses who pulled her from the sky have lube from some sex-positive butch entrepreneur's cottage industry. Lena orders cases shipped to her penthouse, here, and the properties she still frequents. She paid good childhood trauma for this inheritance and the company that built her fortune since. She means to use it.

Washed. Check. Easy, and since Lena went slow, with cold water Kara didn't stiffen whatsoever.

Pillow. Check. One does not attend boarding school with a tiny clique of rich queer brats without being able to arrange pillows on the floor in a way so supportive it would make an orthopedic surgeon proud.

That's when it goes wrong.

Lucy Lane is a goddamned liar. She omitted something.

Smell. After a few minutes up close, her hands on Kara's cock and her lungs filled with Kara, the smell of their naps on the couch, everything about the situation, Lena's throat is so thick with saliva she can feel herself swallowing to keep up. The towel underneath her is already squelching so she adds a washcloth, right at the source and finds herself jerking her hips against it in reflex. She's as lubed and loose in her throat as she is in her cunt. Whoever made the virus really thought of everything when it came to digging for latent genes and flipping the lights on. Human women may have been leaving good money on the table the whole time...

"Mmm, Lee?" Kara groans, looking down.

_Fuck._

Lucy Lane ruins everything.

"Lee, what's wrong?"

_I don't want Supergirl, I want Kara! There's no emergency! I just need to be fucked!_

"Well," Kara chortles.

"Probably can figure that out."

Kara's grin is big and Lena should slap it off her but if they start doing impact play, that's not going anywhere she's ready for yet.

"Did I say that out loud?" Lena groans.

"Lee, it's fine. S'cute."

Kara shifts, getting ready to sit up.

"No," Lena pleads. 

She puts her hands on Kara's thighs, stilling her.

"Stay."

"M'staying," Kara rumbles.

"I..." Lena begins. "I've been wanting to do things, things I only remember from the heat. Things I'd never done before, sometimes."

"You want to suck my cock," Kara tells her. Not asks. Tells. Scratchy-voiced, octaves below anything Lena could ever reach. Short words and declarative sentences.

_How the fuck does that sound so sweet and cute in her mouth?_

"I'd never been with a man. I'd never sucked a strap. Too much of a top. I had a fuckbuddy who would suck my...guess it was a klixen the whole time and I didn't know the term."

Kara's eyebrow raise at the mention Lena has a klixen back home is _not okay_ for her current mental state.

The banter is making Kara hard. That won't do. Hard is too scary.

Lena lunges. 

"FUCK!" Kara roars.

Her hands drop to Lena's shoulders.

"Babe, m'gonna..." she gulps. "...whew. That's _amazing_...it'll...be real fast. If you keep doing that."

It's not comfortable at first, stretching her jaw wide as she can but it's also not needed. She can relax partway, she discovers. The head is fat and salty on her tongue. It stiffens and changes in shape slightly and leaks faster but it doesn't get bigger. With the salt and bitterness the fullness and the tang on the skin, Lena decides its a bit like she stuffed a tangerine in her mouth in one go.

The crass omega side of her feels _worthy_ that this alpha chose _her_ throat to fuck.

The Luthor in her is both amused and frigthened to realize she flicked between peach (far too big, though much closer in texture to skin), a lemon (too nasty, still not the right shape) before landing on a fruit she does actually enjoy most mornings without realizing that's what made the comparison work for her.

The Lena involved, the deepest, most confusing part, likes that Kara is _smiling_ at her. Awestruck. Waiting for Lena's emotions to catch up.

Lena wiggles her tongue experimentally and Kara squeaks in surprise. The head was a sore stretch going in with her mouth opened wide enough to protect the flared ridge from Lena's teeth. It fits easily enough after that. She has a feeling that this was the easy part.

Kara's hands begin a semi-coordinated shoulder rub.

"Don't ever feel like you _have to_ Lena. That's important. If you ever _want to_? Unless I'm on camera with Cat Grant? Yes. This," Kara offers, glancing at the klixen, or maybe her abs, or maybe so much goddamned skin, and scent, and carefully contained strength filling all five senses to the point that heat delirium feels like a moment of perfect fucking clarity right now.

"Is my _body_ but your _entertainment_ when you want it. Warnings preferred but trust me to stop you if I ever don't like it or sleep alone if I'm not comfortable with you getting frisky at night. Just like I make you tell me ten times before I get it in that you want it. You've developed this 'consent squeak' by the way. It's adorable."

Lena tries to say she hates it but for obvious reasons can't. Trying to form words with her teeth, lips and tongue is counterproductive right now if she wants Kara to think she's annoyed.

"Oh, _Rao_ that feels good."

One hand moves to Lena's cheek. 

"You're funny. Bossy too. Can't believe it took me thirty whole seconds to fall in love. Can't believe you let me."

Lena hide the sniffle best she can so that Kara doesn't think she's gagging.

"Your mouth so _hot,_ Lena. You want the rest, baby?"

Lena nods.

"Let's line you up. I want my woman to feel no pain."

Kara shifts them around a bit, stopping to hiss when she moves too much and scrapes the back of Lena's teeth. The fixes she makes are so obvious Lena can't understand how she missed them. Lena's the one on the couch now, Kara leaning back on the floor. Her head and neck arranged just so by pillows and gentle hands. While she does all this, Kara gives Lena the ground rules.

"You steer. You _always steer_ with this, babe. You're the one who has to keep breathing so my hands stay here."

Kara puts both hands back on her shoulders.

"Here."

She moves them to the couch.

"Here, if you like that."

A few fingers drop into Lena's hair and scratch the top of her head.

"Myself, I'm a fan of this, for my _good girl_. Can't get enough of your eyes, Lena."

Kara's hands cup her cheeks and her thumb circles.

The feeling is mutual, Kara liking to look into her eyes. Good lord it is mutual. 

Lena is being caressed by Kara's gaze, lazy and unhurried. She's enjoying the curve of Lena's ass or a glance at her hand but not hungrily. She's trusting Lena will let her see it again, someday. She's looking at Lena's body like it belongs in her eyesight and it makes Lena feel like it _should_ belong there because she isn't crazy about the sag when she's out of a bra, her skin must have lost that ivory shade she is so proud of three rug-grinding fucks ago, she hasn't washed her hair, she probably has carpet fibers stuck to her butt and legs and embedded in her shinbones from riding Kara so hard yesterday. Somehow Kara just sees _a woman_ and likes it. She can tell by the crinkle at the edges of her eyes.

Deep blue eyes lifting her, coddling her, suspending her to just _feel_ in the way an ocean takes all else away when you float in it.

 _Fucking hell. This is a good way to make her look at my face when she comes,_ Lena realizes.

"Unless you pull off and convince me otherwise with your big-girl words? I don't put them _here._ "

One massive hand curls around the back of Lena's skull and while it exerts no pressure, it could. Kara could pull Lena down and make everything Lena's problem. There's a lot to unpack in how much Lena wants to convince Kara to plow her throat and _take! take! take!_ the moment she feels that confident grip.

The hand slides away, the thumb finding her cheek again.

"Never. Unless you ask first or we pause and we talk. Fingernails. Inside of my knees. Tap hard and I'll pull you off."

"Spit, swallow, pull off and finish me in a napkin, put it in a Jack and Coke -- that's probably just Lucy being weird -- that's your call too."

Lena pulls off. It's a challenge because what went in spongy and leaking is now like a smooth stone polished in a stream, trickling steadily. Lena cups a palm under the slit to limit the mess.

"Anything else?" she gasps.

Kara wiggles her lips back and forth, trying to think.

"Lipstick. That red lipstick is gonna look so good painting my cock, baby..."


	18. Spinning Up, Spinning Thread - Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New suit, new Kara. New friends, new traditions.

**Kara Danvers**

"Anything else?"

Never lie to a woman. That's one of Kara's rules.

Lena asked her what else she needed to know about blowjobs and Kara had told her how _they would do it_ in terms of rules because Lena and her will enjoy this and if that means Kara doesn't come or Lena needs to stop but that's how they enjoy it? So be it.

When she sucks Alex, it's all about her body's power, Kara's lack of need to breathe, her _giftedness and unique power_ and the extremes that she can drive a normally calm, steady wife to. Shouts. Yelps. Strangled, tiny cries and cathing her before she falls. 

Alex swings. One half of the time, it's because it's easy. They're on the couch, Alex is a little horny, Kara is in reach. No one feels like standing up just yet. Cozy. The blowjob equivalent of relaxing under a quilt and listening to white noise. The other half of the time is all about the stolen moments, at work, FBI field office parking garage, at the movie theater, once at the 24-hour Whole Foods for fucks sake because she realized a camera was out and they were short-staffed. Windows of opportunity. Risk and reward. Kara turning a shopping cart handle to powder because someone was coming but they were several aisles off and Alex wasn't done so it was going to be finishing up faster rather than stopping like non-crazy people would have. About the _thrill_ of it. 

Tiffany is consuming, dissolving, melting. Slow, sloppy, unstoppable. Kara dissolves in her mouth, softens and hardens. Repeats. Ending in a damp pop of those big pillowy lips that brings her back to reality. Tiffany doesn't start unless she has time to do it her way. If Alex is about keeping an eye out for clerks and racing to fit the finish in, Tiffany wants Kara to clear her afternoon.

Lucy Lane is some sort of weird human-snake hybrid with poor impulse control, a dialect of English specific to dirty talk, and a loose grasp of what the human jaw can handle and Lucy enjoys it so much that Kara enjoys it too. Lucy likes to start trouble, loves to make people uncomfortable in conversation in both clothed and naked settings and would rather it be messy, be raw, be hard. She'd rather just borrow the washcloth for her drool and snot when it's all over.

Lena is different, she's a different person. So sex with Lena will be different. They just are going to have to learn how together.

Unfortunately, Lena seems to expect actual human words in reply. She's asking Kara to name a favorite part of a favorite painting in an art gallery. One she never visited. Those memories aren't made and Kara's not sure favorites exist for memories like that.

Ruby lips. Donuts. Kara feeling out of her depth. Threatened by white cheeks, green eyes, red lips.

"Lipstick. That red lipstick is gonna look so good painting my cock, baby..."

Kara had been hoping for an eye roll in reply.

What she gets is Lena reaching for her purse, keeping her attention with a firm, punishingly slow pump that makes her more aware of how slow it is than it does excite...and coming back up with a tube of lipstick.

She flashes the bottom of the tube at Kara to show the logo. Not only Chanel but _monogrammed_ with LKL, her initials, and apparently a personalized, sterling silver number to slot ordinary tubes into. She turns it slowly, eyes never leaving Kara's.

"You do it," Lena rasps.

"I am so bad with makeup, gorgeous."

"Don't care. I can afford to waste it."

"All right," Kara laughs. 

She pats her lap.

"Hop up."

Lena gets to her feet with a big grin. The woman that slings her legs over Kara's lap is not the dangerous mom-warned-you-and-so-did-the-Bible seductress she was dealing with before. This is _her girlfriend_ in her lap, eyes shut, smiling big. Holding one hand while Kara positions her with the other hand on the chin.

It's also the first time she's dealt with Lena face to face, so close they're sharing breath and done so without kissing or grinding or any _distractions_ to dull just how _amazing_ Lena Luthor is in general. At the moment, Lena's face is in _her hands, offered to her to touch_ and it's a lot. The abstract awareness that she exists was thrilling. The idea that somewhere a woman with this face and these smarts and this drive to do good walked the earth.

Now she's clambered into Kara's lap, pinning Kara's cock between their bellies and that washcloth layig on Kara's legs is floppy and warm with _slick_ and that's because of _her_ effect on Lenaand even that micro-panic attack doesn't really break Kara's awe.

"How are you even real?" Kara wonders. 

She tilts Lena's head up.

"This...jaw," she grumbles. "Alex would tease me about being thirsty. Called it getting a 'bone structure boner' when we watched your TED Talks."

"M'sorry," Lena whines, quite deliberately adding an omega simper to it. She hasn't realized yet that forced omega _pouting_ and real, true _want_ that comes with the dance of scents and tones of voice sound completely different.

"No being sorry," Kara laughs. "I get to touch it..."

"This! Art schools teach people to paint _this_ face and then tell them to walk it the fuck back so it's believable. This is like, the platonic ideal of a woman's cheekbones."

"Did you know that's his wrestling name?"

Kara is fairly sure she hit her head.

"Smart naked lady on my lap? I didn't go to famous schools. Not _that sort of_ famous. Not on this planet at least. Please tell the nice dumb jock what you mean."

"Plato. We actually don't know his name. That's his _wrestling_ name. Platon means 'broad' in ancient Greek. It was his nickname when he was training to be a wrestler in the ancient Olympics. There are anecdotes about him wrestling people to win arguments."

Lena shrugs.

"Might as well be the Allegory of Hulk Hogan's Cave."

_If she's trying to be cute, mission fucking accomplished. If she's trying to convince me I deserve her, sassing about classical stuff and flashing that Oxford education around right along with the pearly whites is a weird flex._

"See?" Kara laughs. "Educational _and_ erotic. Lips shut for a minute, babe."

Lena pouts. Which makes this much easier.

"You meant to do that..."

Lena smiles.

"Don't blot it," Lena whispers before Kara can actually grab a kleenex. "Want to be messy."

Kara turns the tube, drawing the crimson treasure back under its protection and then and caps it.

"No mirror, so only one way to be sure if you did it right."

Lena slides down and kisses the upper curve of Kara's breast, pressing in and holding for a long time.

"Hmm. Stain looks about right..."

She slides down, stopping to flick her tongue out at some interval she decided on.

Without warning, a sloppy, hot, rough tongue scrapes across Kara's nipple and she arches up into it and reminds herself not to grab the brunette's head and just _keep here there_ with everything she has but it's barely.

Lena sends her back with a quick, sharp twist of the fingers around the other nipple.

"Bad girl," Lena scolds. "Lay back. No wiggling."

"Right," Kara huffs.

As Lena's face slinks down her torso, nipping, teeth-scraping, licking, Kara's world shrinks. Green. Red. Wet. Heat.

Two green eyes, shiny red lips, a wet, quick tongue and the heat inside the flesh of it. Her own body is secondary, dissolved in the sighs and feelings. It feels so good _because Lena's doing it_ more than really _what she's doing_ and her next moan is all about looking into those eyes while Lena's tongue gathering a bead of sweat on her abs like a cat gathers cream, keeping it dangling there and finally shaking it into the top of Kara's bush.

"Ready, Kara?"

"No," Kara admits.

"That's the spirit."

\-----

Lena's lips are red, messy, smearing.

Her teeth are white, shiny, teasing.

Her tongue is broad, wet, eager.

She's in Lena's mouth now, all the way and Lena's throat is molten, shaking and _tight_ as it ripples around her. Incredible. The only reason Lena isn't coughing through a throatful already is that she's so _careful_ about everything she's doing. Never enough to build Kara past the edge. Just enough to corner her against the cliff like the villain in a movie and threaten to throw her in.

That tongue is spread out along her balls and Lena's holding eye contact and the wink and the still, soft, not-moving-at-all moment they're sharing is telling her to _hold the fuck still_ and enjoy if she wants it to last. Lena is breathing slow, using every possible trick _and_ the reflex training to breathe _around_ and through her nose and Kara could write a goddamned novel about her cute little nose flaring.

She is making sure she is fully filled on air before she moves again, draws again, _moans again_ around Kara's length.

She is ticking all of the boxes of someone who likes it, someone who doesn't think it's a chore for her and is wanting to practice and enjoying it herself Kara hadn't exactly expected that after the slow, tentative, maybe-maybe-not slide Lena made. 

Lena doesn't want to suck her cock for thirty seconds until she needs to gulp down a breath. Lena wants to capture Kara, keep her, possess her for a length of time that will be determined by when Lena wants to give up the domination of it.

She is topping Kara with a _blowjob_ and Kara would no more move or grab Lena's head than she would break a safeword and it's some tricky bullshit if Kara ever head of any.

Lena reaches for her hands, wiggling fingers for Kara to get the hint.

"Sure, gorgeous."

Kara winds her fingers into Lena's and loves the silky skin and the powerful grip.

Lena takes the chance to force herself until her nose grinds and _sucks_ while Kara's distracted and that's it. She comes so suddenly she barely realizes it's happening and misses that boiling over moment before it's all just too much.

"RAO!" 

Kara bends in half, almost grabbing Lena's head because it feels so _good_ to stay right here. Lena swallows and Kara gushes. Lena keeps going and _fuck Lena makes this look classy_ and time just rolls on, one gulp, one twitch, one pulse, one green-eyed wink at a time. She came once and it kept going in fits and starts and it took nine fucking minutes according to the microwave clock or she came several times and each time so hard her brain stopped working long enough to get her to the next one, she has no fucking idea. Probably the latter but Lena makes her believe either is possible.

It isn't until it really fucking hurts that Kara can gather a thought long enough to _react_ to Lena's attention.

"Babe, babe, babe!" Kara scolds. "Too much."

Lena rises, brushing the back of her hand across her lips. Her pink...completely cleaned-off...lips with no fucking makeup left on them.

"Holy...fuck," Kara gulps. "I'm gonna just, be here for a minute. Then I'm gonna do whatever the fuck you want forever in case you maybe might _consider_ doing that again."

"Well," Lena croaks. The woman can barely talk and she looks so happy it hurt Kara to think that she ever _didn't think_ she deserves Lena because if Kara wasn't here Lena _might not be so happy_ at sunset on this exact Monday and that wouldn't do.

"That seems like a good point to start at."

Lena tucks in, her cunt leaving a slender trail of slick up Kara's body as she does.

"How long until you can get hard?"

Kara curls a hand around Lena's hips and kisses the top of her head.

"Longer than you want to wait, pretty girl. You were amazing."

"Good as Lucy?" Lena asks.

"Lucy doesn't suck my cock like you do. She does it like _she does it_ and it apples and oranges. That's why _you pick_ with this one, Lena. Giver's choice. Because I'm going to enjoy it no matter what. The question is did Lena Luthor like how she spent the last...fuck...more than an _hour_?"

"She did," Lena admits, trailng a finger in a zigzag on Kara's abs. "She _really_ did enjoy it. I felt powerful. In charge, you know?"

"Then _that's_ the point."

Kara starts to melt and a much-more-awake seeming Lena on top of her just follows her down.

"M'gonna..."

Kara yawns. She flops her hand for the blanket and pulls it up across Lena's shoulders and hers.

"Nap. _Le petit mort_ and whatnot."

"Fear is the little death," Lena whispers.

It happens after Kara's brain loses what's _real_ and what's _not real_ and her mind assigns the quote to too-good-to-be-true files.

Lena Luthor, secret nerd, quoting classic Sci-Fi and naked cuddling her? Strains credulity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still working on my phrasing skills. Have them having so much fun they don't remember the specifics...as a treat.  
> \-----  
> Rich Lena is great. Boring Rich Lena buys CatCo rather than just saying she's in love. Sexy Rich Lena uses up half of a $90 tube of lipstick for one blowjob.

**Author's Note:**

> ## Like it? Come holler at me about fanfic!
> 
>   
>  **Tumblr** (the hub of the whole operation)  
>   
> <https://alephthirteen-writes.tumblr.com/>  
>   
>  **Twitter**
> 
> <https://www.twitter.com/AlephWrites>
> 
> **Discord** (I'm on most of the day, mute it at night)  
> [  
>  https://discord.gg/j4QrQF4](https://discord.gg/j4QrQF4)  
>   
>  **Kryptowiki** (codex for my DC-universe fics with expanded  
>  info, sections per story)  
>   
> <https://kryptowiki.stufftoread.com>  
>   
> 


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